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JANE  AUSTEN'S  WORKS 

SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY 

Volume  I. 


JANE  AUSTEN'S  WORKS. 

Sense  and  Sensibility  .  .  . 

2  vols. 

Pride  and  Prejudice  .... 

2  vols. 

Mansfield  Park  

2  vols. 

2  vols. 

NORTHANGER  AbBEY  .... 

I  vol. 

I  vol. 

Lady  Susan  —  The  Watsons 

With  a  Memoir  .... 

I  vol. 

I  vol. 

THE  NOVELS  OF  JANE  JUSTEN 


SENSE  AND 
S  E  N  S  I  B  I  L  I  T  Y 

BY 

JANE  AUSTEN 

IN  TWO  VOLUMES 

Vol.  I. 


BOSTON 
LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 
1903 


Copyright,  1892, 
By  Roberts  Brothers. 


John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.S.A. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

pHE  family  of  Dasliwood  had  been  long 
settled  in  Sussex.  Their  estate  was 
large,  and  their  residence  was  at  Nor- 
land Park,  in  the  centre  of  their  property,  where 
for  many  generations  they  had  lived  in  so  respect- 
able a  manner  as  to  engage  the  general  good  opinion 
of  their  surrounding  acquaintance.  The  late  owner 
of  this  estate  was  a  single  man,  who  lived  to  a  very 
advanced  age,  and  who  for  many  years  of  his  life 
had  a  constant  companion  and  housekeeper  in  his 
sister.  But  her  death,  which  happened  ten  years 
before  his  own,  produced  a  great  alteration  in  his 
home ;  for  to  supply  her  loss  he  invited  and  received 
into  his  house  the  family  of  his  nephew  Mr.  Henry 
Dashwood,  the  legal  inheritor  of  the  Norland  estate, 
and  the  person  to  whom  he  intended  to  bequeath  it. 


6 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


In  the  society  of  his  nephew  and  niece^  and  their 
children,  the  old  gentleman's  days  were  comfortably 
spent.  His  attachment  to  them  all  increased.  The 
constant  attention  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry  Dash- 
wood  to  his  wishes,  which  proceeded  not  merely 
from  interest,  but  from  goodness  of  heart,  gave  him 
every  degree  of  solid  comfort  which  his  age  could 
receive;  and  the  cheerfulness  of  the  children  added 
a  relish  to  his  existence. 

By  a  former  marriage,  Mr.  Henry  Dashwood  had 
one  son;  by  his  present  lady,  three  daughters.  The 
son,  a  steady,  respectable  young  man,  was  amply 
provided  for  by  the  fortune  of  his  mother,  v\^hich 
had  been  large,  and  half  of  which  devolved  on  him 
on  his  coming  of  age.  By  his  own  marriage,  like- 
wise, which  happened  soon  afterwards,  he  added  to 
his  wealth.  To  him,  therefore,  the  succession  to 
the  Norland  estate  was  not  so  really  important  as 
to  his  sisters;  for  their  fortune,  independent  of 
what  might  arise  to  them  from  their  father's  in- 
heriting that  property,  could  be  but  small.  Their 
mother  had  nothing,  and  their  father  only  seven 
thousand  pounds  in  his  own  disposal ;  for  the  re- 
maining moiety  of  his  first  wife's  fortune  was  also 
secured  to  her  child,  and  he  had  only  a  life-interest 
in  it. 

The  old  gentleman  died :  his  will  was  read ;  and, 
like  almost  every  other  will,  gave  as  much  disap- 
pointment as  pleasure.    He  was  neither  so  unjust 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


7 


nor  so  ungrateful  as  to  leave  his  estate  from  his 
nephew;  but  he  left  it  to  him  on  such  terms  as 
destroyed  half  the  value  of  the  bequest.  Mr. 
Dashwood  had  wished  for  it  more  for  the  sake  of 
his  wife  and  daughters  than  for  himself  or  his  son ; 
but  to  his  son'^  and  his  son's  son,  a  child  of  four 
years  old,  it  was  secured,  in  such  a  way  as  to  leave 
to  himself  no  power  of  providing  for  those  who 
were  most  dear  to  him,  and  who  most  needed  a 
provision,  by  any  charge  on  the  estate,  or  by  any 
sale  of  its  valuable  woods.  The  whole  was  tied  up 
for  the  benefit  of  this  child,  who  in  occasional 
visits  with  his  father  and  mother  at  ^Torland  had 
so  far  gained  on  the  affections  of  his  uncle,  by  such 
attractions  as  are  by  no  means  unusual  in  children 
of  two  or  three  years  old,  —  an  imperfect  articula- 
tion, an  earnest  desire  of  having  his  own  way, 
many  cunning  tricks,  and  a  great  deal  of  noise,  — 
as  to  outweigh  all  the  value  of  all  the  attention 
which  for  years  he  had  received  from  his  niece 
and  her  daughters.  He  meant  not  to  be  unkind, 
however,  and,  as  a  mark  of  his  affection  for  the 
three  girls,  he  left  them  a  thousand  pounds  apiece. 

Mr.  Dashwood' s  disappointment  w^as  at  first 
severe ;  but  his  temper  was  cheerful  and  sanguine, 
and  he  might  reasonably  hope  to  live  many  years, 
and  by  living  economically,  lay  by  a  considerable 
sum  from  the  produce  of  an  estate  already  large, 
and  capable  of  almost  immediate  improvement. 


8 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


But  the  fortune,  whicli  had  been  so  tardy  in  com- 
ing, was  his  only  one  twelvemonth.  He  survived 
his  uncle  no  longer;  and  ten  thousand  pounds,  in- 
cluding the  late  legacies,  was  all  that  remained  for 
his  widow  and  daughters. 

His  son  was  sent  for  as  soon  as  his  danger  was 
known;  and  to  him  Mr.  Dashwood  recommended, 
with  all  the  strength  and  urgency  which  illness 
could  command,  the  interest  of  his  mother-in-law 
and  sisters. 

Mr.  John  Dashwood  had  not  the  strong  feelings 
of  the  rest  of  the  family;  but  he  was  affected  by  a 
recommendation  of  such  a  nature  at  such  a  time, 
and  he  promised  to  do  everything  in  his  power  to 
make  them  comfortable.  His  father  was  rendered 
easy  by  such  an  assurance,  and  Mr.  John  Dashwood 
had  then  leisure  to  consider  how  much  there  might 
prudently  be  in  his  power  to  do  for  them. 

He  was  not  an  ill-disposed  young  man,  unless  to 
be  rather  cold-hearted  and  rather  selfish  is  to  be 
ill-disposed;  but  he  was,  in  general,  well  respected, 
for  he  conducted  himself  with  propriety  in  the  dis- 
charge of  his  ordinary  duties.  Had  he  married  a 
more  amiable  woman,  he  might  have  been  made 
still  more  respectable  than  he  was;  he  might  even 
have  been  made  amiable  himself,  for  he  was  very 
young  when  he  married,  and  very  fond  of  his  wife. 
But  Mrs.  John  Dashwood  was  a  strong  caricature 
of  himself,  —  more  narrow-minded  and  selfish. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


9 


When  he  gave  his  promise  to  his  father,  he  medi- 
tated within  himself  to  increase  the  fortunes  of  his 
sisters  by  the  present  of  a  thousand  pounds  apiece. 
He  then  really  thought  himself  equal  to  it.  The 
prospect  of  four  thousand  a  year,  in  addition  to  his 
present  income,  besides  the  remaining  half  of  his 
own  mother^s  fortune,  warmed  his  heart,  and  made 
him  feel  capable  of  generosity.  ^^Yes,  he  would 
give  them  three  thousand  pounds ;  it  would  be  lib- 
eral and  handsome  !  It  would  be  enough  to  make 
them  completely  easy.  Three  thousand  pounds !  he 
could  spare  so  considerable  a  sum  with  little  incon- 
venience.^^ He  thought  of  it  all  day  long,  and  for 
many  days  successively,  and  he  did  not  repent. 

1^0  sooner  was  his  father's  funeral  over  than  Mrs. 
John  Dashwood,  without  sending  any  notice  of  her 
intention  to  her  mother-in-law,  arrived  with  her 
child  and  their  attendants.  Ko  one  could  dispute 
her  right  to  come;  the  house  was  her  husband's 
from  the  moment  of  his  father's  decease;  but  the 
indelicacy  of  her  conduct  was  so  much  the  greater, 
and  to  a  woman  in  Mrs.  Dashwood's  situation,  with 
only  common  feelings,  must  have  been  highly  un- 
pleasing.  But  in  her  mind  there  was  a  sense  of 
honor  so  keen,  a  generosity  so  romantic,  that  any 
offence  of  the  kind,  by  whomsoever  given  or  re- 
ceived, was  to  her  a  source  of  immovable  disgust. 
Mrs.  John  Dashwood  had  never  been  a  favorite 
with  any  of  her  husband's  family;  but  she  had  had 


10  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


no  opportunity,  till  the  present,  of  showing  them 
with  how  little  attention  to  the  comfort  of  other 
people  she  could  act  when  occasion  required  it. 

So  acutely  did  Mrs.  Dashwood  feel  this  ungra- 
cious behavior,  and  so  earnestly  did  she  despise 
her  daughter-in-law  for  it,  that,  on  the  arrival  of 
the  latter,  she  would  have  quitted  the  house  for- 
ever, had  not  the  entreaty  of  her  eldest  girl  in- 
duced her  first  to  reflect  on  the  propriety  of  going, 
and  her  own  tender  love  for  all  her  three  children 
determined  her  afterwards  to  stay,  and  for  their 
sakes  avoid  a  breach  with  their  brother. 

Elinor,  this  eldest  daughter  whose  advice  was  so 
effectual,  possessed  a  strength  of  understanding 
and  coolness  of  judgment  w^hich  qualified  her, 
though  only  nineteen,  to  be  the  counsellor  of  her 
mother,  and  enabled  her  frequently  to  counteract, 
to  the  advantage  of  them  all,  that  eagerness  of 
mind  in  Mrs.  Dashwood  which  must  generally  have 
led  to  imprudence.  She  had  an  excellent  heart; 
her  disposition  was  affectionate,  and  her  feelings 
were  strong,  but  she  knew  how  to  govern  them. 
It  was  a  knowledge  which  her  mother  had  yet  to 
learn,  and  which  one  of  her  sisters  had  resolved 
never  to  be  taught. 

Marianne's  abilities  were,  in  many  respects,  quite 
equal  to  Elinor's.  She  was  sensible  and  clever,  but 
eager  in  everything:  her  sorrows,  her  joys,  could 
have  no  moderation.    She  was  generous,  amiable, 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


11 


interesting;  she  was  everything  but  prudent.  The 
resemblance  between  her  and  her  mother  was  strik- 
ingly great. 

Elinor  saw,  with  concern,  the  excess  of  her 
sister's  sensibility;  but  by  Mrs.  Dashwood  it  was 
valued  and  cherished.  They  encouraged  each  other 
now  in  the  violence  of  their  affliction.  The  agony 
of  grief  which  overpowered  them  at  first  was  volun- 
tarily renewed,  was  sought  for,  was  created  again 
and  again.  They  gave  themselves  up  wholly  to 
their  sorrow,  seeking  increase  of  wretchedness  in 
every  reflection  that  could  afford  it,  and  resolved 
against  ever  admitting  consolation  in  future. 
Elinor,  too,  was  deeply  afflicted;  but  still  she 
could  struggle,  she  could  exert  herself.  She  could 
consult  with  her  brother;  could  receive  her  sister- 
in-law  on  her  arrival,  and  treat  her  with  proper 
attention;  and  could  strive  to  rouse  her  mother 
to  similar  exertion,  and  encourage  her  to  similar 
forbearance. 

Margaret,  the  other  sister,  w^as  a  good-humored, 
well-disposed  girl ;  but  as  she  had  already  imbibed 
a  good  deal  of  Marianne's  romance  without  having 
much  of  her  sense,  she  did  not,  at  thirteen,  bid  fair 
to  equal  her  sisters  at  a  more  advanced  period  of 
life. 


CHAPTER  II. 


Mrs.  John  Dashwood  now  installed  herself  mis- 
tress of  Norland ;  and  her  mother  and  sisters  in  law 
were  degraded  to  the  condition  of  visitors.  As  such, 
however,  they  were  treated  by  her  with  quiet  civil- 
ity ;  and  by  her  husband  with  as  much  kindness  as 
he  could  feel  towards  anybody  beyond  himself,  his 
wife,  and  their  child.  He  really  pressed  them, 
with  some  earnestness,  to  consider  Norland  as  their 
home;  and  as  no  plan  appeared  so  eligible  to  Mrs. 
Dashwood  as  remaining  there  till  she  could  accom- 
modate herself  with  a  house  in  the  neighborhood, 
his  invitation  was  accepted. 

A  continuance  in  a  place  where  everything  re- 
minded her  of  former  delight  was  exactly  what 
suited  her  mind.  In  seasons  of  cheerfulness  no 
temper  could  be  more  cheerful  than  hers,  or  possess 
in  a  greater  degree  that  sanguine  expectation  of 
happiness  which  is  happiness  itself;  but  in  sorrow 
she  must  be  equally  carried  away  by  her  fancy,  and 
as  far  beyond  consolation  as  in  pleasure  she  was 
beyond  alloy. 

Mrs.  John  Dashwood  did  not  at  all  approve  of 
what  her  husband  intended  to  do  for  his  sisters. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


13 


To  take  three  thousand  pounds  from  the  fortune  of 
their  dear  little  boy  would  be  impoverishing  him 
to  the  most  dreadful  degree.  She  begged  him  to 
think  again  on  the  subject.  How  could  he  answer 
it  to  himself  to  rob  his  child,  and  his  only  child 
too,  of  so  large  a  sum?  And  what  possible  claim 
could  the  Miss  Dashwoods,  who  were  related  to  him 
only  by  half  blood,  which  she  considered  as  no 
relationship  at  all,  have  on  his  generosity  to  so 
large  an  amount?  It  was  very  well  known  that  no 
affection  was  ever  supposed  to  exist  between  the 
children  of  any  man  by  different  marriages;  and 
why  was  he  to  ruin  himself  and  their  poor  little 
Harry  by  giving  away  all  his  money  to  his  half- 
sisters? 

"  It  was  my  father's  last  request  to  me,"  replied 
her  husband,  ^^that  I  should  assist  his  widow  and 
daughters.'' 

^^He  did  not  know  what  he  was  talking  of,  I 
dare  say ;  ten  to  one  but  he  was  light-headed  at  the 
time.  Had  he  been  in  his  right  senses,  he  could 
not  have  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  begging  you 
to  give  away  half  your  fortune  from  your  own 
child." 

He  did  not  stipulate  for  any  particular  sum, 
my  dear  Fanny;  he  only  requested  me,  in  general 
terms,  to  assist  them,  and  make  their  situation 
more  comfortable  than  it  was  in  his  power  to  do. 
Perhaps  it  would  have  been  as  well  if  he  had  left 


14 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


it  wholly  to  myself.  He  could  hardly  suppose  I 
should  neglect  them.  But  as  he  required  the  prom- 
ise, I  could  not  do  less  than  give  it;  at  least,  I 
thought  so  at  the  time.  The  promise  therefore 
was  given,  and  must  be  performed.  Something 
must  be  done  for  them  whenever  they  leave  Norland 
and  settle  in  a  new  home.'^ 

^^Well,  then,  let  something  be  done  for  them; 
but  that  something  need  not  be  three  thousand 
pounds.  Consider,^'  she  added,  ^^that  when  the 
money  is  once  parted  with,  it  never  can  return. 
Your  sisters  will  marry,  and  it  will  be  gone  for- 
ever. If,  indeed,  it  could  ever  be  restored  to  our 
poor  little  boy  — 

^^Why,  to  be  sure,''  said  her  husband,  very 
gravely,  ^^that  would  make  a  great  difference. 
The  time  may  come  when  Harry  will  regret  that 
so  large  a  sum  was  parted  with.  If  he  should 
have  a  numerous  family,  for  instance,  it  would  be 
a  very  convenient  addition.'' 

^^To  be  sure  it  would." 
Perhaps,  then,   it  would  be  better   for  all 
parties  if   the  sum  were   diminished  one  half. 
Pive  hundred  pounds  would  be  a  prodigious  in- 
crease to  their  fortunes!" 

^^Oh,  beyond  anything,  great!  What  brother 
on  earth  would  do  half  so  much  for  his  sisters,  even 
if  really  his  sisters !  And  as  it  is,  —  only  half- 
blood!    But  you  have  such  a  generous  spirit!  " 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


15 


^^I  would  not  wish  to  do  anything  mean/'  he 
replied.  *^One  had  rather,  on  such  occasions,  do 
too  much  than  too  little.  No  one,  at  least,  can 
think  1  have  not  done  enough  for  them;  even 
themselves,  they  can  hardly  expect  more.'' 

There  is  no  knowing  what  they  may  expect," 
said  the  lady;  ^^but  we  are  not  to  think  of  their 
expectations :  the  question  is,  what  you  can  afford 
to  do." 

Certainly;  and  I  think  I  may  afford  to  give 
them  five  hundred  pounds  apiece.  As  it  is,  with- 
out any  addition  of  mine,  they  will  each  have 
above  three  thousand  pounds  on  their  mother's 
death,  —  a  very  comfortable  fortune  for  any  young 
woman." 

^^To  be  sure  it  is;  and,  indeed,  it  strikes  me 
that  they  can  want  no  addition  at  all.  They  will 
have  ten  thousand  pounds  divided  amongst  them. 
If  they  marry,  they  will  be  sure  of  doing  well ;  and 
if  they  do  not,  they  may  all  live  very  comfortably 
together  on  the  interest  of  ten  thousand  pounds." 

' '  That  is  very  true,  and  therefore  I  do  not 
know  whether,  upon  the  whole,  it  would  not  be 
more  advisable  to  do  something  for  their  mother 
while  she  lives,  rather  than  for  them,  —  something 
of  the  annuity  kind,  I  mean.  My  sisters  would 
feel  the  good  effects  of  it  as  well  as  herself.  A 
hundred  a  year  would  make  them  all  perfectly 
comfortable." 


16  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


His  wife  hesitated  a  little^  however,  in  giving 
her  consent  to  this  plan. 

^^To  be  sure/'  said  she,  ^^it  is  better  than 
parting  with  fifteen  hundred  pounds  at  once.  But 
then,  if  Mrs.  Dashwood  should  live  fifteen  years, 
we  shall  be  coraj^letely  taken  in.'^ 

^ '  Fifteen  years !  my  dear  Fanny ;  her  life  can- 
not be  worth  half  that  purchase.'^ 

Certainly  not;  but  if  you  observe,  people 
always  live  forever  when  there  is  any  annuity  to 
be  paid  them;  and  she  is  very  stout  and  healthy, 
and  hardly  forty.  An  annuity  is  a  very  serious 
business;  it  comes  over  and  over  every  year,  and 
there  is  no  getting  rid  of  it.  You  are  not  aware 
of  what  you  are  doing.  I  have  known  a  great 
deal  of  the  trouble  of  annuities;  for  my  mother 
was  clogged  with  the  payment  of  three  to  old 
superannuated  servants  by  my  father's  will,  and 
it  is  amazing  how  disagreeable  she  found  it. 
Twice  every  year  these  annuities  were  to  be  paid; 
and  then  there  was  the  trouble  of  getting  it  to 
them ;  and  then  one  of  them  was  said  to  have  died, 
and  afterwards  it  turned  out  to  be  no  such  thing. 
M}^  mother  was  quite  sick  of  it.  Her  income  was 
not  her  own,  she  said,  with  such  perpetual  claims 
on  it;  and  it  was  the  more  unkind  in  my  father, 
because,  otherwise,  the  money  would  have  been 
entirely  at  my  mother's  disposal,  without  any 
restriction  whatever.    It  has  given  me  such  an 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


17 


abhorrence  of  annuities,  that  I  am  sure  I  would 
not  pin  myself  down  to  the  payment  of  one  for  all 
the  world/' 

^^It  is  certainly  an  unpleasant  thing/'  replied 
Mr.  Dashwood,  ^^to  have  those  kind  of  yearly 
drains  on  one's  income.  One's  fortune,  as  your 
mother  justly  says,  is  not  one's  own.  To  be  tied 
down  to  the  regular  payment  of  such  a  sum  on 
every  rent-day  is  by  no  means  desirable;  it  takes 
away  one's  independence." 

^^Undoubtedly;  and,  after  all,  you  have  no 
thanks  for  it.  They  think  themselves  secure ;  you 
do  no  more  than  what  is  expected,  and  it  raises  no 
gratitude  at  all.  If  I  were  you,  whatever  I  did 
should  be  done  at  my  own  discretion  entirely.  I 
would  not  bind  myself  to  allow  them  anything 
yearly.  It  may  be  very  inconvenient  some  years 
to  spare  a  hundred  or  even  fifty  pounds  from  our 
own  expenses." 

^^I  believe  you  are  right,  my  love;  it  will  be 
better  that  there  should  be  no  annuity  in  the  case : 
whatever  I  may  give  them  occasionally  will  be  of 
far  greater  assistance  than  a  yearly  allowance,  be- 
cause they  would  only  enlarge  their  style  of  living 
if  they  felt  sure  of  a  larger  income,  and  would  not 
be  sixpence  the  richer  for  it  at  the  end  of  the 
year.  It  will  certainly  be  much  the  best  way.  A 
present  of  fifty  pounds  now  and  then  will  prevent 
their  ever  being  distressed  for  money,  and  will,  I 

VOL.  I.  —  2 


18 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


think,  be  amply  discharging  my  promise  to  my 
father.'' 

^^To  be  sure  it  will.  Indeed,  to  say  the  truth, 
I  am  convinced  within  myself  that  your  father  had 
no  idea  of  your  giving  them  any  money  at  all. 
The  assistance  he  thought  of,  I  dare  say,  was  only 
such  as  might  be  reasonably  expected  of  you;  for 
instance,  such  as  looking  out  for  a  comfortable 
small  house  for  them,  helping  them  to  move  their 
things,  and  sending  them  presents  of  fish  and 
game,  and  so  forth,  whenever  they  are  in  season. 
I'll  lay  my  life  that  he  meant  nothing  further; 
indeed,  it  would  be  very  strange  and  unreasonable 
if  he  did.  Do  but  consider,  my  dear  Mr.  Dash- 
wood,  how  excessively  comfortable  your  mother-in- 
law  and  her  daughters  may  live  on  the  interest  of 
seven  thousand  >unds,  besides  the  thousand 
pounds  belonging  j  each  of  the  girls,  which  brings 
them  in  fifty  pou  ds  a  year  apiece,  and  of  course 
they  will  pay  th(  c  mother  for  their  board  out  of 
it.  Altogether,  they  will  have  five  hundred  a 
year  amongst  them;  and  what  on  earth  can  four 
women  want  for  more  than  that  ?  They  will  live 
so  cheap!  Their  housekeeping  will  be  nothing  at 
all.  They  will  have  no  carriage,  no  horses,  and 
hardly  any  servants ;  they  will  keep  no  company, 
and  can  have  no  expenses  of  any  kind!  Only  con- 
ceive how  comfqrtable  they  will  be!  Five  hundred 
a  year !    I  am  sure  I  cannot  imagine  how  they  will 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


19 


^  spend  half  of  it ;  and  as  to  your  giving  them  more, 
it  is  quite  absurd  to  think  of  it.  They  will  be 
much  more  able  to  give  you  something.'' 

^^Upon  my  word, "  said  Mr.  Dashwood,  I  be- 
lieve you  are  perfectly  right.  My  father  certainly 
could  mean  nothing  more  by  his  request  to  me 
than  what  you  say.  I  clearly  understand  it  now, 
and  I  will  strictly  fulfil  my  engagement  by  such 
acts  of  assistance  and  kindness  to  them  as  you 
have  described.  When  my  mother  removes  into 
another  house,  my  services  shall  be  readily  given  to 
accommodate  her  as  far  as  I  can.  Some  little  pres- 
ent of  furniture,  too,  may  be  acceptable  then." 

Certainly,"  returned  Mrs.  John  Dashwood. 
^^But,  however,  one  thing  must  be  considered. 
When  your  father  and  mother  moved  to  INorland, 
though  the  furniture  of  Stanhill  was  sold,  all  the 
china,  plate,  and  linen  was  saved,  and  is  now  left 
to  your  mother.  Her  house  will  therefore  be 
almost  completely  fitted  up  as  soon  as  she  takes 
it." 

^^That  is  a  material  consideration  undoubtedly. 
A  valuable  legacy  indeed!  And  yet  some  of  the 
plate  would  have  been  a  very  pleasant  addition  to 
our  own  stock  here." 

^^Yes;  and  the  set  of  breakfast  china  is  twice 
as  handsome  as  what  belongs  to  this  house;  a 
great  deal  too  handsome,  in  my  opinion,  for  any 
place  they  can  ever  afford  to  live  in.    But,  how- 


^0 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


ever,  so  it  is.  Tour  father  thought  only  of  them. 
And  I  must  say  this,  that  you  owe  no  particular 
gratitude  to  him,  nor  attention  to  his  wishes;  for 
we  very  well  know  that  if  he  could  he  would  have 
left  almost  everything  in  the  world  to  them.^^ 

This  argument  was  irresistible.  It  gave  to  his 
intentions  whatever  of  decision  was  wanting  be- 
fore ;  and  he  finally  resolved  that  it  would  be  abso- 
lutely unnecessary,  if  not  highly  indecorous,  to  do 
more  for  the  widow  and  children  of  his  father  than 
such  kind  of  neighborly  acts  as  his  own  wife 
pointed  out. 


CHAPTEE  III. 


Mrs.  Dashwood  remained  at  Norland  several 
months,  not  from  any  disinclination  to  move  when 
the  sight  of  every  well-known  spot  ceased  to  raise 
the  violent  emotion  which  it  produced  for  a  while, 
—  for  when  her  spirits  began  to  revive,  and  her  mind 
became  capable  of  some  other  exertion  than  that  of 
heightening  its  affliction  by  melancholy  remem- 
brances, she  was  impatient  to  be  gone,  and  inde- 
fatigable in  her  inquiries  for  a  suitable  dwelling 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Norland,  for  to  remove  far 
from  that  beloved  spot  was  impossible;  but  she 
could  hear  of  no  situation  that  at  once  answered 
her  notions  of  comfort  and  ease,  and  suited  the 
prudence  of  her  eldest  daughter,  whose  steadier 
judgment  rejected  several  houses,  as  too  large 
for  their  income,  which  her  mother  would  have 
approved. 

Mrs.  Dashwood  had  been  informed  by  her  hus- 
band of  the  solemn  promise  on  the  part  of  his  sou 
in  their  favor,  which  gave  comfort  to  his  last 
earthly  reflections.  She  doubted  the  sincerity  of 
this  assurance  no  more  than  he  had  doubted  it 
himself,  and  she  thought  of  it  for  her  daughters' 
sake  with  satisfaction,  though  as  for  herself  she 


22  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


was  persuaded  that  a  much  smaller  provision  than 
seven  thousand  pounds  would  support  her  in  afflu- 
ence. For  their  brother's  sake,  too,  for  the  sake 
of  his  own  heart,  she  rejoiced;  and  she  reproached 
herself  for  being  unjust  to  his  merit  before,  in 
believing  him  incapable  of  generosity.  His  at- 
tentive behavior  to  herself  and  his  sisters  con- 
vinced her  that  their  welfare  was  dear  to  him,  and 
for  a  long  time  she  firmly  relied  on  the  liberality 
of  his  intentions. 

The  contempt  which  she  had  very  early  in  their 
acquaintance  felt  for  her  daughter-in-law  was  very 
much  increased  by  the  further  knowledge  of  her 
character  which  half  a  year's  residence  in  her 
family  afforded;  and  perhaps,  in  spite  of  every 
consideration  of  politeness  or  maternal  affection 
on  the  side  of  the  former,  the  two  ladies  might 
have  found  it  impossible  to  have  lived  together 
so  long,  had  not  a  particular  circumstance  occurred 
to  give  still  greater  eligibility,  according  to  the 
opinions  of  Mrs.  Dashwood,  to  her  daughters'  con- 
tinuance at  Norland. 

This  circumstance  was  a  growing  attachment 
between  her  eldest  girl  and  the  brother  of  Mrs. 
John  Dashwood,  a  gentlemanlike  and  pleasing 
young  man,  who  was  introduced  to  their  acquaint- 
ance soon  after  his  sister's  establishment  at  Nor- 
land, and  who  had  since  spent  the  greatest  part  of 
his  time  there. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


23 


Some  mothers  might  have  encouraged  the  in- 
timacy from  motives  of  interest,  for  Edward  Ferrars 
was  the  eldest  son  of  a  man  who  had  died  very 
rich;  and  some  might  have  repressed  it  from 
motives  of  prudence,  for,  except  a  trifling  sum, 
the  whole  of  his  fortune  depended  on  the  will  of 
his  mother.  But  Mrs.  Dashwood  was  alike  unin- 
fluenced by  either  consideration;  it  was  enough 
for  her  that  he  appeared  to  be  amiable,  that  he 
loved  her  daughter,  and  that  Elinor  returned  the 
partiality.  It  was  contrary  to  every  doctrine  of 
hers  that  difference  of  fortune  should  keep  any 
couple  asunder  who  were  attracted  hy  resemblance 
of  disposition;  and  that  Elinor's  merit  should  not 
be  acknowledged  by  every  one  who  knew  her  was 
to  her  comprehension  impossible. 

Edward  Ferrars  was  not  recommended  to  their 
good  opinion  by  any  peculiar  graces  of  person  or 
address.  He  was  not  handsome,  and  his  manners 
required  intimacy  to  make  them  pleasing.  He 
w^as  too  diffident  to  do  justice  to  himself;  but 
when  his  natural  shyness  was  overcome,  his  be- 
havior gave  every  indication  of  an  open,  affection- 
ate heart.  His  understanding  was  good,  and  his 
education  had  given  it  solid  improvement.  But 
he  was  neither  fitted  by  abilities  nor  disposition 
to  answer  the  wishes  of  his  mother  and  sister,  who 
longed  to  see  him  distinguished  as — they  hardly 
knew  what.    They  wanted  him  to  make  a  fino 


24 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


figure  in  the  world  in  some  manner  or  other.  His 
mother  wished  to  interest  him  in  political  con- 
cerns, to  get  him  into  parliament,  or  to  see  him 
connected  with  some  of  the  great  men  of  the  day. 
Mrs.  John  Dashwood  wished  it  likewise;  but  in 
the  mean  while,  till  one  of  these  superior  blessings 
could  be  attained,  it  would  have  quieted  her  am- 
bition to  see  him  driving  a  barouche.  But  Edward 
had  no  turn  for  great  men  or  barouches.  All  his 
wishes  centred  in  domestic  comfort  and  the  quiet 
of  private  life.  Fortunately,  he  had  a  younger 
brother  who  was  more  promising. 

Edward  had  been  staying  several  weeks  in  the 
house  before  he  engaged  much  of  Mrs.  Dashwood's 
attention;  for  she  was  at  that  time  in  such  afflic- 
tion as  rendered  her  careless  of  surrounding  objects. 
She  saw  only  that  he  was  quiet  and  unobtrusive, 
and  she  liked  him  for  it.  He  did  not  disturb  the 
wretchedness  of  her  mind  by  ill-timed  conversation. 
She  was  first  called  to  observe  and  approve  him 
further  by  a  reflection  which  Elinor  chanced  one 
day  to  make  on  the  difference  between  him  and  his 
sister.  It  was  a  contrast  which  recommended  him 
most  forcibly  to  her  mother. 

^^It  is  enough,"  said  she;  ^^to  say  that  he  is 
unlike  Eanny  is  enough.  It  implies  everything 
amiable.    I  love  him  already." 

^^I  think  you  will  like  him,"  said  Elinor, 
^^when  you  know  more  of  him." 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


25 


^^Like  him! replied  her  mother,  with  a  smile. 
*^Ican  feel  no  sentiment  of  approbation  inferior 
to  love/' 

You  may  esteem  him.'' 

^^I  have  never  yet  known  what  it  was  to  sepa- 
rate esteem  and  love." 

Mrs.  Dashwood  now  took  pains  to  get  acquainted 
with  him.  Her  manners  were  attaching,  and  soon 
banished  his  reserve.  She  speedily  comprehended 
all  his  merits;  the  persuasion  of  his  regard  for 
Elinor  perhaps  assisted  her  penetration;  but  she 
really  felt  assured  of  his  worth,  and  even  that 
quietness  of  manner,  which  militated  against  all 
her  established  ideas  of  what  a  young  man's  address 
ought  to  be,  was  no  longer  uninteresting  when 
she  knew  his  heart  to  be  warm  and  his  temper 
affectionate. 

!N"o  sooner  did  she  perceive  any  symptom  of  love 
in  his  behavior  to  Elinor  than  she  considered  their 
serious  attachment  as  certain,  and  looked  forward 
to  their  marriage  as  rapidly  approaching. 

^^In  a  few  months,  my  dear  Marianne,"  said 
she,  Elinor  will,  in  all  probability,  be  settled 
for  life.  We  shall  miss  her,  but  she  will  be 
happy." 

Oh,  mamma,  how  shall  we  do  without  her?  " 
^^My  love,  it  will  be  scarcely  a  separation;  we 
shall  live  within  a  few  miles  of  each  other,  and 
shall  meet  every  day  of  our  lives;  you  will  gain 


26  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


a  brother,  —  a  real,  affectionate  brother.  I  have 
the  highest  opinion  in  the  world  of  Edward's  heart. 
But  you  look  grave,  Marianne ;  do  you  disapprove 
your  sister's  choice?  " 

Perhaps,"  said  Marianne,  I  may  consider 
it  with  some  surprise.  Edward  is  very  amiable, 
and  I  love  him  tenderly.  But  yet  —  he  is  not  the 
kind  of  young  man ;  there  is  a  something  wanting, 
—  his  figure  is  not  striking ;  it  has  none  of  that 
grace  which  I  should  expect  in  the  man  who  could 
seriously  attach  my  sister.  His  eyes  want  all 
that  spirit,  that  fire,  which  at  once  announce 
virtue  and  intelligence.  And  besides  all  this,  I 
am  afraid,  mamma,  he  has  no  real  taste.  Music 
seems  scarcely  to  attract  him;  and  though  he  ad- 
mires Elinor's  drawings  very  much,  it  is  not  the 
admiration  of  a  person  who  can  understand  their 
worth.  It  is  evident,  in  spite  of  his  frequent 
attention  to  her  while  she  draws,  that  in  fact  he 
knows  nothing  of  the  matter.  He  admires  as  a 
lover,  not  as  a  connoisseur.  To  satisfy  me,  those 
characters  must  be  united.  I  could  not  be  happy 
with  a  man  whose  taste  did  not  in  every  point 
coincide  with  my  own.  He  must  enter  into  all 
my  feelings;  the  same  books,  the  same  music, 
must  charm  us  both.  Oh,  mamma,  how  spiritless, 
how  tame  was  Edward's  manner  in  reading  to  us 
last  night!  I  felt  for  my  sister  most  severely. 
Yet  she  bore  it  with  so  much  composure,  she 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


27 


seemed  scarcely  to  notice  it.  I  could  hardly  keep 
my  seat.  To  hear  those  beautiful  lines,  which 
have  frequently  almost  driven  me  wild,  pronounced 
with  such  impenetrable  calmness,  such  dreadful 
indifference!  " 

^^He  w^ould  certainly  have  done  more  justice  to 
simple  and  elegant  prose.  I  thought  so  at  the 
time;  but  you  would  give  him  Cowper.'' 

"^2ij,  mamma,  if  he  is  not  to  be  animated  by 
Cowper !  —  but  we  must  allow  for  difference  of  taste. 
Elinor  has  not  my  feelings,  and  therefore  she 
may  overlook  it  and  be  happy  with  him.  But  it 
would  have  broken  my  heart,  had  I  loved  him,  to 
hear  him  read  with  so  little  sensibility.  Mamma, 
the  more  I  know  of  the  world  the  more  am  I  con- 
vinced that  I  shall  never  see  a  man  whom  I  can 
really  love.  I  require  so  much!  Pie  must  have 
all  Edward's  virtues,  and  his  person  and  manners 
must  ornament  his  goodness  with  every  possible 
charm." 

^^Kemember,  my  love,  that  you  are  not  seven- 
teen. It  is  yet  too  early  in  life  to  despair  of  such 
happiness.  Why  should  you  be  less  fortunate 
than  your  mothar?  In  one  circumstance  only,  my 
Marianne,  may  your  destiny  be  different  from 
hers!'^ 


CHAPTER  IV. 


^^What  a  pity  it  is,  Elinor,"  said  Marianne, 
that  Edward  should  have  no  taste  for  drawing!  " 
"1^0  taste  for  drawing!  "  replied  Elinor;  why 
should  you  think  so?  He  does  not  draw  himself, 
indeed,  but  he  has  great  pleasure  in  seeing  the 
performances  of  other  people ;  and  I  assure  you  he 
is  by  no  means  deficient  in  natural  taste,  though 
he  has  not  had  opportunities  of  improving  it. 
Had  he  ever  been  in  the  way  of  learning,  I  think 
he  would  have  drawn  very  well.  He  distrusts  his 
own  judgment  in  such  matters  so  much  that  he  is 
always  unwilling  to  give  his  opinion  on  any  pic- 
ture ;  but  he  has  an  innate  propriety  and  simplicity 
of  taste,  which,  in  general,  direct  him  perfectly 
right." 

Marianne  was  afraid  of  offending,  and  said  no 
more  on  the  subject;  but  the  kind  of  approbation 
which  Elinor  described  as  excited  in  him  by  tlio 
drawings  of  other  people  was  very  far  from  that 
rapturous  delight  which,  in  her  opinion,  could 
alone  be  called  taste.  Yet,  though  smiling  within 
herself  at  the  mistake,  she  honored  her  sister  for 
that  blind  partiality  to  Edward  which  produced  it. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY.  29 


hope,  Marianne,"  continued  Elinor,  ^^you 
do  not  consider  him  as  deficient  in  general  taste. 
Indeed,  I  think  I  may  say  that  you  cannot;  for 
your  behavior  to  him  is  perfectly  cordial,  and  if 
that  were  your  opinion,  I  am  sure  you  could  never 
be  civil  to  him.'' 

Marianne  hardly  knew  what  to  say.  She  would 
not  wound  the  feelings  of  her  sister  on  any  account, 
and  yet  to  say  what  she  did  not  believe  was  im- 
possible.   At  length  she  replied, — 

^^Do  not  be  offended,  Elinor,  if  my  praise  of 
him  is  not  in  everything  equal  to  your  sense  of 
his  merits.  I  have  not  had  so  many  opportuni- 
ties of  estimating  the  minuter  propensities  of  his 
mind,  his  inclinations  and  tastes,  as  you  have; 
but  I  have  the  highest  opinion  in  the  world  of 
his  goodness  and  sense.  I  think  him  everything 
that  is  worthy  and  amiable." 

^^I  am  sure,"  replied  Elinor,  with  a  smile, 
^^that  his  dearest  friends  could  not  be  dissatis- 
fied with  such  commendation  as  that.  I  do  not 
perceive  how  you  could  express  yourself  more 
warmly." 

Marianne  was  rejoiced  to  find  her  sister  so  easily 
pleased. 

^^Of  his  sense  and  his  goodness,"  continued 
Elinor,  "  no  one  can,  I  think,  be  in  doubt,  who 
has  seen  him  often  enough  to  engage  him  in  un- 
reserved conversation.    The  excellence  of  his  un- 


30  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


derstanding  and  his  principles  can  be  concealed 
only  by  that  shyness  which  too  often  keeps  him 
silent.  You  know  enough  of  him  to  do  justice  to 
his  solid  worth.  But  of  his  minuter  propensities, 
as  you  call  them,  you  have,  from  peculiar  circum- 
stances, been  kept  more  ignorant  than  myself.  He 
and  I  have  been  at  times  thrown  a  good  deal  to- 
gether, while  you  have  been  wholly  engrossed  on 
the  most  affectionate  principle  by  my  mother.  I 
have  seen  a  great  deal  of  him,  have  studied  his 
sentiments,  and  heard  his  opinion  on  subjects  of 
literature  and  taste;  and,  upon  the  whole,  I  ven- 
ture to  pronounce  that  his  mind  is  well  informed, 
his  enjoyment  of  books  exceedingly  great,  his  ima- 
gination lively,  his  observations  just  and  correct, 
and  his  taste  delicate  and  pure.  His  abilities  in 
every  respect  improve  as  much  upon  acquaintance 
as  his  manners  and  person.  At  first  sight,  his 
address  is  certainly  not  striking;  and  his  person 
can  hardly  be  called  handsome,  till  the  expression 
of  his  eyes,  which  are  uncommonly  good,  and  the 
general  sweetness  of  his  countenance,  are  perceived. 
At  present  I  know  him  so  well  that  I  think  him 
really  handsome,  or,  at  least,  almost  so.  What 
say  you,  Marianne? 

^^I  shall  very  soon  think  him  handsome,  Elinor, 
if  I  do  not  now.  When  you  tell  me  to  love  him 
as  a  brother,  I  shall  no  more  see  imperfection  in 
his  face  than  I  now  do  in  his  heart. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


31 


Elinor  started  at  this  declaration,  and  was  sorry 
for  the  warmth  she  had  been  betrayed  into  in  speak- 
ing of  him.  She  felt  that  Edward  stood  very  high 
in  her  opinion.  She  believed  the  regard  to  be 
mutual;  but  she  required  greater  certainty  of  it 
to  make  Marianne's  conviction  of  their  attachment 
agreeable  to  her.  She  knew  that  what  Marianne 
and  her  mother  conjectured  one  moment,  they  be- 
lieved the  next,  —  that  with  them,  to  wish  was  to 
hope,  and  to  hope  was  to  expect.  She  tried  to 
explain  the  real  state  of  the  case  to  her  sister. 

^^I  do  not  attempt  to  deny,"  said  she,  ^^that  I 
think  very  highly  of  him,  —  that  I  greatly  esteem, 
that  I  like  him." 

Marianne  here  burst  forth  with  indignation,  — 

^ '  Esteem  him !  Like  him !  Cold-hearted  Elinor ! 
Oh,  worse  than  cold-hearted!  Ashamed  of  being 
otherwise !  Use  those  words  again,  and  I  will  leave 
the  room  this  moment." 

Elinor  could  not  help  laughing.  Excuse  me," 
said  she;  "  and  be  assured  that  I  meant  no  offence 
to  you  by  speaking  in  so  quiet  a  way  of  my  own 
feelings.  Believe  them  to  be  stronger  than  I  have 
declared;  believe  them,  in  short,  to  be  such  as  his 
merit  and  the  suspicion — the  hope — of  his  affection 
for  me  may  warrant,  without  imprudence  or  folly. 
But  further  than  this  you  must  not  believe.  I  am 
by  no  means  assured  of  his  regard  for  me.  There 
are  moments  when  the  extent  of  it  seems  doubtful  j 


32 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


and  till  his  sentiments  are  fully  known,  yon  can- 
not wonder  at  my  wishing  to  avoid  any  encourage- 
ment of  my  own  partialit}^,  by  believing  or  calling 
it  more  than  it  is.  In  my  heart  I  feel  little  — 
scarcely  any  doubt,  of  his  preference.  But  there 
are  other  points  to  be  considered  besides  his  in- 
clination. He  is  very  far  from  being  independent. 
What  his  mother  really  is  we  cannot  know;  but, 
from  Fanny's  occasional  mention  of  her  conduct 
and  opinions,  we  have  never  been  disposed  to  think 
her  amiable  ;  and  I  am  very  much  mistaken  if 
Edward  is  not  himself  aware  that  there  would  be 
many  difficulties  in  his  way,  if  he  were  to  wish  to 
marry  a  woman  who  had  not  either  a  great  fortune 
or  high  rank." 

Marianne  was  astonished  to  find  how  much  the 
imagination  of  her  mother  and  herself  had  out- 
stripped the  truth. 

And  you  really  are  not  engaged  to  him!  "  said 
she.  ^^Yet  it  certainly  soon  will  happen.  But 
two  advantages  will  proceed  from  this  delay.  / 
shall  not  lose  you  so  soon,  and  Edward  will  have 
greater  opportunity  of  improving  that  natural  taste 
for  your  favorite  pursuit  which  must  be  so  indis- 
pensably necessary  to  your  future  felicity.  Oh!  if 
he  should  be  so  far  stimulated  by  your  genius  as 
to  learn  to  draw  himself,  how  delightful  it  would 
be!'' 

Elinor  had  given  her  real  opinion  to  her  sister. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


33 


She  could  not  consider  lier  partiality  for  Edward 
in  so  prosperous  a  state  as  Marianne  liad  believed 
it.  There  was  at  times  a  want  of  spirits  about 
him  which,  if  it  did  not  denote  indifference,  spoke 
a  something  almost  as  unpromising.  A  doubt  of 
her  regard,  supposing  him  to  feel  it,  need  not  give 
him  more  than  inquietude.  It  would  not  be  likely 
to  produce  that  dejection  of  mind  which  frequently 
attended  him.  A  more  reasonable  cause  might  be 
found  in  the  dependent  situation  which  forbade  the 
indulgence  of  his  affection.  She  knew  that  his 
mother  neither  behaved  to  him  so  as  to  make  his 
home  comfortable  at  jjresent,  nor  to  give  him  any 
assurance  that  he  might  form  a  home  for  himself, 
without  strictly  attending  to  her  views  for  his  ag- 
grandizement. With  such  a  knowledge  as  this,  it 
was  impossible  for  Elinor  to  feel  easy  on  the  sub- 
ject. She  was  far  from  depending  on  that  result 
of  his  preference  of  her,  which  her  mother  and 
sister  still  considered  as  certain.  Nay,  the  longer 
they  were  together  the  more  doubtful  seemed  the 
nature  of  his  regard;  and  sometimes,  for  a  few 
painful  minutes,  she  believed  it  to  be  no  more 
than  friendship. 

But,  whatever  might  really  be  its  limits,  it  was 
enough,  when  perceived  by  his  sister,  to  make  her 
uneasy,  and  at  the  same  time  (which  was  still  more 
common)  to  make  her  uncivil.  She  took  the  first 
opportunity  of  affronting  her  mother-in-law  on  the 

VOL.  I.  —  3 


34 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY, 


occasion,  talking  to  her  so  expressively  of  Ler 
brother's  great  expectations,  of  Mrs.  Ferrars's  reso- 
lution that  both  her  sons  should  marry  well,  and 
of  the  danger  attending  any  young  woman  who 
attempted  to  draw  J  dm  in,  that  Mrs.  Dashwood 
could  neither  pretend  to  be  unconscious,  nor  en- 
deavor to  be  calm.  She  gave  her  an  answer  which 
marked  her  contempt,  and  instantly  left  the  room; 
resolving  that,  whatever  might  be  the  inconven- 
ience or  expense  of  so  sudden  a  removal,  her  be- 
loved Elinor  should  not  be  exposed  another  week 
to  such  insinuations. 

In  this  state  of  her  spirits  a  letter  was  delivered 
to  her  from  the  post,  which  contained  a  proposal 
particularly  w^ell  timed.  It  was  the  offer  of  a 
small  house,  on  very  easy  terms,  belonging  to  a 
relation  of  her  own,  a  gentleman  of  consequence 
and  property  in  Devonshire.  The  letter  was  from 
this  gentleman  himself,  and  written  in  the  true 
spirit  of  friendly  accommodation.  He  understood 
that  she  was  in  need  of  a  dwelling;  and  though 
the  house  he  now  offered  her  was  merely  a  cottage, 
he  assured  her  that  everything  should  be  done  to 
it  which  she  might  think  necessary,  if  the  situa- 
tion pleased  her.  He  earnestly  pressed  her,  after 
giving  the  particulars  of  the  house  and  garden,  to 
come  with  her  daughters  to  Barton  Park,  the  place 
of  his  own  residence,  from  whence  she  might  judge 
herself  w^hether  Barton  Cottage  —  for  the  houses 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


35 


were  in  the  same  parish  —  could  by  any  alteration 
be  made  comfortable  for  her.  He  seemed  really 
anxious  to  accommodate  them;  and  the  whole  of 
his  letter  was  written  in  so  friendly  a  style  as 
could  not  fail  of  giving  pleasure  to  his  cousin; 
more  especially  at  a  moment  when  she  was  suffer- 
ing under  the  cold  and  unfeeling  behavior  of  her 
nearer  connections.  She  needed  no  time  for  de- 
liberation or  inquiry.  Her  resolution  was  formed 
as  she  read.  The  situation  of  Barton,  in  a  county 
so  far  distant  from  Sussex  as  Devonshire,  which 
but  a  few  hours  before  would  have  been  a  sufficient 
objection  to  outweigh  every  possible  advantage  be- 
longing to  the  place,  was  now  its  first  recommen- 
dation. To  quit  the  neighborhood  of  Norland  was 
no  longer  an  evil:  it  was  an  object  of  desire;  it 
was  a  blessing,  in  comparison  of  the  misery  of 
continuing  her  daughter-in-law's  guest:  and  to 
remove  forever  from  that  beloved  place  would  be 
less  painful  than  to  inhabit  or  visit  it  while  such 
a  woman  was  its  mistress.  She  instantly  WTote 
Sir  John  Middleton  her  acknowledgment  of  his 
kindness,  and  her  acceptance  of  his  proposal;  and 
then  hastened  to  show  both  letters  to  her  daugh- 
ters, that  she  might  be  secure  of  their  approbation 
before  her  answer  were  sent. 

Elinor  had  always  thought  it  would  be  more 
prudent  for  them  to  settle  at  some  distance  from 
Norland  than  immediately  amongst  their  present 


36 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


acquaintance.  On  that  liead^  therefore,  it  was  not 
for  her  to  oppose  her  mother's  intention  of  remov- 
ing into  Devonshire.  The  house,  too,  as  described 
"by  Sir  John,  was  on  so  simple  a  scale,  and  the 
rent  so  uncommonly  moderate,  as  to  leave  her  no 
right  of  objection  on  either  point;  and  therefore, 
though  it  was  not  a  plan  which  brought  any 
charm  to  her  fancy,  though  it  was  a  removal  from 
the  vicinity  of  i^orland  beyond  her  wishes,  she 
made  no  attempt  to  dissuade  her  mother  from 
sending  a  letter  of  acquiescence. 


CHAPTER  V. 


No  sooner  was  her  answer  despatched,  than  Mrs. 
Dashwood  indulged  herself  in  the  pleasure  of  an- 
nouncing to  her  son-in-law  and  his  wife  that  she 
was  provided  with  a  house,  and  should  incommode 
them  no  longer  than  till  everything  were  ready 
for  her  inhabiting  it.  They  heard  her  with  sur- 
prise. Mrs.  John  Dashwood  said  nothing;  but 
her  husband  civilly  hoped  that  she  would  not  be 
settled  far  from  Norland.  She  had  great  satis- 
faction in  replying  that  she  was  going  into  Dev- 
onshire. Edward  turned  hastily  towards  her, 
on  hearing  this,  and  in  a  voice  of  surprise  and 
concern,  which  required  no  explanation  to  her, 
repeated:  "  Devonshire!  Are  you,  indeed,  going 
there?  So  far  from  hence!  and  to  what  part  of 
it?  She  explained  the  situation.  It  was  within 
four  miles  northward  of  Exeter. 

^^It  is  but  a  cottage,'^  she  continued;  but  I 
hope  to  see  many  of  my  friends  in  it.  A  room  or 
two  can  easily  be  added;  and  if  mj  friends  find  no 
difficulty  in  travelling  so  far  to  see  me,  I  am  sure 
I  will  find  none  in  accommodating  them.'^ 

She  concluded  with  a  very  kind  invitation  to 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Dashwood  to  visit  her  at 


38 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


Barton;  and  to  Edward  she  gave  one  with  still 
greater  affection.  Though  her  late  conversation 
with  her  daughter-in-law  had  made  her  resolve 
on  remaining  at  Norland  no  longer  than  was 
unavoidable,  it  had  not  produced  the  smallest 
effect  on  her  in  that  point  to  which  it  principally 
tended.  To  separate  Edward  and  Elinor  was  as 
far  from  being  her  object  as  ever;  and  she  wished 
to  show  Mrs.  John  Dash  wood,  by  this  pointed 
invitation  to  her  brother,  how  totally  she  disre- 
garded her  disapprobation  of  the  match. 

Mr.  John  Dashwood  told  his  mother  again  and 
again  how  exceedingly  sorry  he  was  that  she  had 
taken  a  house  at  such  a  distance  from  Norland  as 
to  prevent  his  being  of  any  service  to  her  in 
removing  her  furniture.  He  really  felt  con- 
scientiously vexed  on  the  occasion;  for  the  very 
exertion  to  which  he  had  limited  the  performance 
of  his  promise  to  his  father  was  by  this  arrange- 
ment rendered  impracticable.  The  furniture  was 
all  sent  round  by  water.  It  chiefly  consisted  of 
household  linen,  plate,  china,  and  books,  with  a 
handsome  pianoforte  of  Marianne's.  Mrs.  John 
Dashwood  saw  the  packages  depart  with  a  sigh: 
she  could  not  help  feeling  it  hard  that,  as  Mrs. 
Dashwood's  income  would  be  so  trifling  in  com- 
parison with  their  own,  she  should  have  any  hand- 
some article  of  furniture. 

Mrs.  Dashwood  took  the  house  for  a  twelve- 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


39 


month;  it  was  ready  furnished,  and  she  might 
have  immediate  possession.  No  difficulty  arose  on 
either  side  in  the  agreement;  and  she  waited  only 
for  the  disposal  of  her  effects  at  Norland,  and  to 
determine  her  future  household,  before  she  set  off 
for  the  west;  and  this,  as  she  was  exceedingly 
rapid  in  the  performance  of  everything  that  in- 
terested her,  was  soon  done.  The  horses  which 
were  left  her  by  her  husband  had  been  sold  soon 
after  his  death,  and  an  opportunity  now  offering  of 
disposing  of  her  carriage,  she  agreed  to  sell  that 
likewise,  at  the  earnest  advice  of  her  eldest 
daughter.  For  the  comfort  of  her  children,  had 
she  consulted  only  her  own  wishes^  she  would 
have  kept  it;  but  the  discretion  of  Elinor  pre- 
vailed. Her  wisdom,  too,  limited  the  number  of 
their  servants  to  three,  —  two  maids  and  a  man, 
with  whom  they  were  speedily  provided  from 
amongst  those  who  had  formed  their  establish- 
ment at  Norland. 

The  man  and  one  of  the  maids  were  sent  off 
immediately  into  Devonshire,  to  prepare  the  house 
for  their  mistress's  arrival;  for  as  Lady  Middle- 
ton  was  entirely  unknown  to  Mrs.  Dashwood,  she 
preferred  going  directly  to  the  cottage  to  being 
a  visitor  at  Barton  Park;  and  she  relied  so  un- 
doubtingly  on  Sir  John's  description  of  the  house 
as  to  feel  no  curiosity  to  examine  it  herself  till 
she  entered  it  as  her  own.    Her  eagerness  to  be 


40 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


gone  from  Norland  was  preserved  from  diminution 
by  the  evident  satisfaction  of  her  daughter-in-law 
in  the  prospect  of  her  removal,  —  a  satisfaction 
which  was  but  feebly  attempted  to  be  concealed 
under  a  cold  invitation  to  her  to  defer  her  de- 
parture. Now  w^as  the  time  when  her  son-in- 
law's  promise  to  his  father  might  with  particular 
propriety  be  fulfilled.  Since  he  had  neglected 
to  do  it  on  first  coming  to  the  estate,  their  quit- 
ting his  house  might  be  looked  on  as  the  most 
suitable  period  for  its  accomplishment.  But  Mrs. 
Dashwood  began,  shortly,  to  give  over  every  hope 
of  the  kind,  and  to  be  convinced,  from  the  general 
drift  of  his  discourse,  that  his  assistance  extended 
no  further  than  their  maintenance  for  six  months 
at  Norland.  He  so  frequently  talked  of  the  increas- 
ing expenses  of  housekeeping,  and  of  the  perpetual 
demands  upon  his  purse,  which  a  man  of  any 
consequence  in  the  world  was  beyond  calculation 
exposed  to,  that  he  seemed  rather  to  stand  in 
need  of  more  money  himself  than  to  have  any 
design  of  giving  money  away. 

In  a  very  few  weeks  from  the  day  which  brought 
Sir  John  Middleton's  first  letter  to  Norland,  every- 
thing was  so  far  settled  in  their  future  abode 
as  to  enable  Mrs.  Dashwood  and  her  daughters 
to  begin  their  journey. 

Many  were  the  tears  shed  by  them  in  their  last 
adieus  to  a  place  so  much  beloved.      "  Dear,  dear 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


41 


NTorland!  "  said  Marianne,  as  slie  wandered  alone 
before  the  house,  on  the  last  evening  of  their  being 
there;  when  shall  I  cease  to  regret  you,  when 
learn  to  feel  a  home  elsewliere !  Oh,  happy  house, 
could  you  know  what  I  suffer  in  now  viewing  you 
from  this  spot,  from  whence,  perhaps,  I  may  view 
you  no  more !  And  you,  ye  well-known  trees !  — 
but  you  will  continue  the  same.  No  leaf  will 
decay  because  we  are  removed,  nor  any  branch 
become  motionless  although  we  can  observe  you  no 
longer!  'No]  you  will  continue  the  same,  uncon- 
scious of  the  pleasure  or  the  regret  you  occasion, 
and  insensible  of  any  change  in  those  who  walk 
under  your  shade!  But  who  will  remain  to  enjoy 
you?'' 


CHAPTER  VI. 


The  first  part  of  their  journey  was  performed  in 
too  melanclioly  a  disposition  to  be  otherwise  than 
tedious  and  unpleasant.  But  as  they  drew  towards 
the  end  of  it,  their  interest  in  the  appearance  of  a 
country  which  they  were  to  inhabit  overcame  their 
dejection,  and  a  view  of  Barton  Valley,  as  they 
entered  it,  gave  them  cheerfulness.  It  was  a 
pleasant  fertile  spot,  well  wooded,  and  rich  in 
pasture.  After  winding  along  it  for  more  than  a 
mile,  they  reached  their  own  house.  A  small 
green  court  was  the  whole  of  its  demesne  in  front ; 
and  a  neat  wicket-gate  admitted  them  into  it. 

As  a  house.  Barton  Cottage,  though  small,  was 
comfortable  and  compact;  but  as  a  cottage  it  was 
defective,  for  the  building  was  regular,  the  roof 
was  tiled,  the  window-shutters  were  not  painted 
green,  nor  were  the  walls  covered  with  honey- 
suckles. A  narrow  passage  led  directly  through 
the  house  into  the  garden  behind.  On  each  side 
of  the  entrance  was  a  sitting-room,  about  sixteen 
feet  square;  and  beyond  them  were  the  offices  and 
the  stairs.  Four  bedroomxS  and  two  garrets  formed 
the  rest  of  the  house.    It  had  not  been  built  many 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


43 


years,  and  was  in  good  repair.  In  comparison  of 
!N"orland,  it  was  poor  and  small  indeed;  but  the 
tears  w^hich  recollection  called  forth  as  they 
entered  the  house  were  soon  dried  away.  They 
were  cheered  by  the  joy  of  the  servants  on  their 
arrival,  and  each  for  the  sake  of  the  others  resolved 
to  appear  happy.  It  was  very  early  in  September; 
the  season  was  fine;  and  from  first  seeing  the 
place  under  the  advantage  of  good  weather,  they 
received  an  impression  in  its  favor  which  was 
of  material  service  in  recommending  it  to  their 
lasting  approbation. 

The  situation  of  the  house  was  good.  High 
hills  rose  immediately  behind,  and  at  no  great 
distance  on  each  side;  some  of  which  were  open 
downs,  the  others  cultivated  and  woody.  The 
village  of  Barton  was  chiefly  on  one  of  these  hills, 
and  formed  a  pleasant  view  from  the  cottage  win- 
dows. The  prospect  in  front  was  more  extensive; 
it  commanded  the  whole  of  the  valley,  and  reached 
into  the  country  beyond.  The  hills  which  sur- 
rounded the  cottage  terminated  the  valley  in  that 
direction;  under  another  name,  and  in  another 
course,  it  branched  out  again  between  two  of  the 
steepest  of  them. 

With  the  size  and  furniture  of  the  house  Mrs. 
Dashwood  was  upon  the  whole  well  satisfied;  for 
though  her  former  style  of  life  rendered  many 
additions  to  the  latter  indispensable,  yet  to  add 


44 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


and  improve  was  a  delight  to  her;  and  she  had  at 
this  time  ready  money  enough  to  supply  all  that 
was  wanted  of  greater  elegance  to  the  apartments. 

As  for  the  house  itself,  to  be  sure/^  said  she,  "  it 
is  too  small  for  our  familjr^  but  we  will  make  our- 
selves tolerably  comfortable  for  the  present,  as  it 
is  too  late  in  the  year  for  improvements.  Perhaps 
in  the  spring,  if  I  have  plenty  of  money,  as  I  dare 
say  I  shall,  we  may  think  about  building.  These 
parlors  are  both  too  small  for  such  parties  of  our 
friends  as  I  hope  to  see  often  collected  here;  and 
I  have  some  thoughts  of  throwing  the  passage  into 
one  of  them,  with  perhaps  a  part  of  the  other,  and 
so  leave  the  remainder  of  that  other  for  an  en- 
trance; this,  with  a  new  drawing-room  which  may 
be  easily  added,  and  a  bedchamber  and  garret  above, 
will  make  it  a  very  snug  little  cottage.  I  could 
wish  the  stairs  were  handsome.  But  one  must  not 
expect  everything;  though  I  suppose  it  would  be 
no  difficult  matter  to  widen  them.  I  shall  see 
how  much  I  am  beforehand  with  the  world  in 
the  spring,  and  we  will  plan  our  improvements 
accordingly.'' 

In  the  mean  time,  till  all  these  alterations  could 
be  made  from  the  savings  of  an  income  of  five 
hundred  a  year  by  a  woman  who  never  saved  in 
her  life,  they  were  wise  enough  to  be  contented 
with  the  house  as  it  was;  and  each  of  them  was 
busy  in  arranging  their  particular  concerns,  and 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


45 


endeavoring,  by  placing  around  them  their  books 
and  other  possessions,  to  form  themselves  a  home. 
Marianne's  pianoforte  was  unpacked  and  properly 
disposed  of;  and  Elinor's  drawings  were  affixed  to 
the  walls  of  their  sitting-room. 

In  such  employments  as  these  they  were  inter- 
rupted soon  after  breakfast  the  next  day  hy  the 
entrance  of  their  landlord,  who  called  to  welcome 
them  to  Barton,  and  to  offer  them  every  accommo- 
dation from  his  own  house  and  garden  in  which 
theirs  might  at  present  be  deficient.  Sir  John 
Middleton  was  a  good-looking  man,  about  forty. 
He  had  formerly  visited  at  Stanhill,  but  it  was  too 
long  ago  for  his  young  cousins  to  remember  him. 
His  countenance  was  thoroughly  good-humored, 
and  his  manners  were  as  friendly  as  the  style  of 
his  letter.  Their  arrival  seemed  to  afford  him 
real  satisfaction,  and  their  comfort  to  be  an  object 
of  real  solicitude  to  him.  He  said  much  of  his 
earnest  desire  of  their  living  on  the  most  sociable 
terms  with  his  family,  and  pressed  them  so  cor- 
dially to  dine  at  Barton  Park  every  day  till  they 
were  better  settled  at  home,  that,  though  his  en- 
treaties were  carried  to  a  point  of  perseverance 
beyond  civility,  they  could  not  give  offence.  His 
Iiindness  was  not  confined  to  words ;  for  within  an 
hour  after  he  left  them,  a  large  basket,  full  of 
garden  stuff  and  fruit,  arrived  from  the  Park, 
which  was  followed  before  the  end  of  the  day  by  a 


46 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


present  of  game.  He  insisted,  moreover,  on  con- 
veying all  their  letters  to  and  from  the  post  for 
them,  and  wonld  not  be  denied  the  satisfaction  for 
sending  them  his  newspaper  every  day. 

Lady  Middleton  had  sent  a  very  civil  message 
by  him,  denoting  her  intention  of  waiting  on  Mrs. 
Dashwood  as  soon  as  she  conld  be  assured  that  her 
visit  would  be  no  inconvenience ;  and  as  this  mes- 
sage was  answered  by  an  invitation  equally  polite, 
her  ladyship  was  introduced  to  them  the  next 
day. 

They  were,  of  course,  very  anxious  to  see  a  per- 
son on  whom  so  much  of  their  comfort  at  Barton 
must  depend;  and  the  elegance  of  her  appearance 
was  favorable  to  their  wishes.  Lady  Middleton 
was  not  more  than  six  or  seven  and  twenty;  her 
face  was  handsome,  her  figure  tall  and  striking, 
and  her  address  graceful.  Her  manners  had  all 
the  elegance  which  her  husband's  wanted.  But 
they  would  have  been  improved  by  some  share  of 
his  frankness  and  warmth;  and  her  visit  was  long 
enough  to  detract  something  from  their  first  admi- 
ration, by  showing  that,  though  perfectly  well 
bred,  she  was  reserved,  cold,  and  had  nothing  to 
say  for  herself  beyond  the  most  commonplace  in- 
quiry or  remark. 

Conversation,  however,  was  not  wanted,  for  Sir 
John  was  very  chatty,  and  Lady  Middleton  had 
taken  the  wise  precaution  of  bringing  with  her 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


47 


their  eldest  child,  a  fine  little  boy  about  six  years 
old;  by  which  means  there  was  one  subject  always 
to  be  recurred  to  by  the  ladies  in  case  of  extremity, 
for  they  had  to  inquire  his  name  and  age,  admire 
his  beauty,  and  ask  him  questions  which  his 
mother  answered  for  him,  while  he  hung  about  her 
and  held  down  his  head,  to  the  great  surprise  of 
her  ladyship,  who  wondered  at  his  being  so  shy 
before  company,  as  he  could  make  noise  enough  at 
home.  On  every  formal  visit  a  child  ought  to  be 
of  the  party,  by  way  of  provision  for  discourse. 
In  the  present  case  it  took  up  ten  minutes  to  de- 
termine whether  the  boy  were  most  like  his  fatlier 
or  mother,  and  in  what  particular  he  resembled 
either ;  for  of  course  everybody  differed,  and  every- 
body was  astonished  at  the  opinion  of  the  others. 

An  opportunity  was  soon  to  be  given  to  the 
Dashwoods  of  debating  on  the  rest  of  the  children, 
as  Sir  John  would  not  leave  the  house  without 
securing  their  promise  of  dining  at  the  Park  the 
next  day. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


Barton  Park  was  about  half  a  mile  from  the  cot- 
tage. The  ladies  had  passed  near  it  in  their  way 
along  the  vallej^,  but  it  was  screened  from  their 
view  at  home  by  the  projection  of  a  hill.  The 
house  was  large  and  handsome;  and  the  Middle- 
tons  lived  in  a  style  of  equal  hospitality  and  ele- 
gance. The  former  was  for  Sir  J ohn's  gratification, 
the  latter  for  that  of  his  lady.  They  were  scarcely 
ever  without  some  friends  staying  with  them  in 
the  house,  and  they  kept  more  company  of  every 
kind  than  any  other  family  in  the  neighborhood. 
It  was  necessary  to  the  happiness  of  both;  for 
however  dissimilar  in  temper  and  outward  be- 
havior, they  strongly  resembled  each  other  in  that 
total  want  of  talent  and  taste  which  confined  their 
employments,  unconnected  with  such  as  society 
produced,  within  a  very  narrow  compass.  Sir 
John  was  a  sportsman,  Lady  Middleton  a  mother. 
He  hunted  and  shot,  and  she  humored  her  chil- 
dren; and  these  were  their  only  resources.  Lady 
Middleton  had  the  advantage  of  being  able  to 
spoil  her  children  all  the  year  round,  while  Sir 
John's  independent  employments  were  in  existence 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


49 


only  half  the  time.  Continual  engagements  at 
home  and  abroad,  however,  supplied  all  the  defi- 
ciencies of  nature  and  education;  supported  the 
good  spirits  of  Sir  John,  and  gave  exercise  to  the 
good  breeding  of  his  wife. 

Lady  Middleton  piqued  herself  upon  the  ele- 
gance of  her  table  and  of  all  her  domestic  arrange- 
ments; and  from  this  kind  of  vanity  was  her 
greatest  enjoyment  in  any  of  their  parties.  But 
Sir  John's  satisfaction  in  society  was  much  more 
real;  he  delighted  in  collecting  about  him  more 
young  people  than  his  house  would  hold,  and  the 
noisier  they  were  the  better  was  he  pleased.  He 
was  a  blessing  to  all  the  juvenile  part  of  the 
neighborhood;  for  in  summer  he  was  forever  form- 
ing parties  to  eat  cold  ham  and  chicken  out  of 
doors,  and  in  winter  his  private  balls  were  numer- 
ous enough  for  any  young  lady  who  was  not  suffer- 
ing under  the  unsatiable  appetite  of  fifteen. 

The  arrival  of  a  new  family  in  the  country  was 
always  a  matter  of  joy  to  him;  and  in  every  point 
of  view  he  was  charmed  with  the  inhabitants  he 
had  now  procured  for  his  cottage  at  Barton.  The 
Miss  Dashwoods  were  young,  pretty,  and  unaffected. 
It  was  enough  to  secure  his  good  opinion;  for  to  be 
unaffected  was  all  that  a  pretty  girl  could  want  to 
make  her  mind  as  captivating  as  her  person.  The 
friendliness  of  his  disposition  made  him  happy  in 
accommodating  those   whose  situation  might  be 


50 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


considered,  in  comparison  with  the  past,  as  un- 
fortunate. In  showing  kindness  to  his  cousins, 
therefore,  he  had  the  real  satisfaction  of  a  good 
heart;  and  in  settling  a  family  of  females  only  in 
his  cottage,  he  had  all  the  satisfaction  of  a  sports- 
men,—  for  a  sportsman,  though  he  esteems  only  those 
of  his  sex  who  are  sportsmen  likewise,  is  not  often 
desirous  of  encouraging  their  taste  hy  admitting 
them  to  a  residence  within  bis  own  manor. 

Mrs.  Dash  wood  and  her  daughters  were  met  at 
the  door  of  the  house  hy  Sir  John,  who  welcomed 
them  to  Barton  Park  with  unaffected  sincerity; 
and  as  he  attended  them  to  the  drawing-room,  re- 
peated to  the  young  ladies  the  concern  which  the 
same  suhject  had  drawn  from  him  the  day  hefore, 
at  heing  unable  to  get  any  smart  young  men  to 
meet  them.  They  would  see,  he  said,  only  one 
gentleman  there  besides  himself ;  a  particular  friend 
who  was  staying  at  the  Park,  but  who  was  neither 
very  young  nor  very  gay.  He  hoped  they  w^ould 
all  excuse  the  smallness  of  the  party,  and  could  as- 
sure them  it  would  never  happen  so  again.  He  had 
been  to  several  families  that  morning,  in  hopes  of 
procuring  some  addition  to  their  number,  but  it 
was  moonlight,  and  everybody  was  full  of  engage- 
ments. Luckily,  Lady  Middleton's  mother  had 
arrived  at  Barton  within  the  last  hour;  and  as  she 
was  a  very  cheerful,  agreeable  woman,  he  hoped 
the  young  ladies  would  not  find  it  so  very  dull  as 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


51 


they  miglit  imagine.  The  young  ladies,  as  well 
as  their  mother,  were  perfectly  satisfied  with  hav- 
ing two  entire  strangers  of  the  party,  and  wished 
for  no  more. 

Mrs.  Jennings,  Lady  Middleton's  mother,  was 
a  good-humored,  merry,  fat,  elderly  woman,  who 
talked  a  great  deal,  seemed  very  happy,  and  rather 
vulgar.  She  was  full  of  jokes  and  laughter,  and 
before  dinner  was  over  had  said  many  witty  things 
on  the  subject  of  lovers  and  husbands;  hoped  they 
had  not  left  their  hearts  behind  them  in  Sussex, 
and  pretended  to  see  them  blush  whether  they  did 
or  not.  Marianne  was  vexed  at  it  for  her  sister's 
sake,  and  turned  her  eyes  towards  Elinor  to  see 
how  she  bore  these  attacks,  with  an  earnestness 
which  gave  Elinor  far  more  pain  than  could 
arise  from  such  commonplace  raillery  as  Mrs. 
Jennings's. 

Colonel  Brandon,  the  friend  of  Sir  John,  seemed 
no  more  adapted  by  resemblance  of  manner  to  be 
his  friend,  than  Lady  Middleton  was  to  be  his  wife, 
or  Mrs.  Jennings  to  be  Lady  Middleton's  mother. 
He  was  silent  and  grave.  His  appearance,  how- 
ever, was  not  unpleasing,  in  spite  of  his  being,  in 
the  opinion  of  Marianne  and  Margaret,  an  absolute 
old  bachelor,  for  he  was  on  the  wrong  side  of  five- 
and-thirty;  but  though  his  face  was  not  handsome, 
his  countenance  was  sensible,  and  his  address  was 
particularly  gentlemanlike. 


52 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


There  was  nothing  in  any  of  the  party  which 
could  recommend  them  as  companions  to  the  Dash- 
woods;  but  the  cold  insipidity  of  Lady  Middleton 
was  so  particularly  repulsive  that  in  comparison 
of  it  the  gravity  of  Colonel  Brandon,  and  even  the 
boisterous  mirth  of  Sir  John  and  his  mother-in-law, 
were  interesting.  Ladj^  Middleton  seemed  to  be 
roused  to  enjoyment  only  by  the  entrance  of  her 
four  noisy  children  after  dinner,  who  pulled  her 
about,  tore  her  clothes,  and  put  an  end  to 
every  kind  of  discourse  except  what  related  to 
themselves. 

In  the  evening,  as  Marianne  was  discovered  to 
be  musical,  she  was  invited  to  play.  The  instru- 
ment was  unlocked,  everybody  prepared  to  be 
charmed,  and  Marianne,  who  sang  very  well,  at 
their  request  went  through  the  chief  of  the  songs 
which  Lady  Middleton  had  brought  into  the  family 
on  her  marriage,  and  which,  perhaps,  had  lain  ever 
since  in  the  same  position  on  the  pianoforte;  for 
her  ladyship  had  celebrated  that  event  by  giving 
up  music,  although,  by  her  mother's  account,  she 
had  played  extremely  well,  and  by  her  own  was 
very  fond  of  it. 

Marianne's  performance  was  highly  applauded. 
Sir  John  was  loud  in  his  admiration  at  the  end  of 
every  song,  and  as  loud  in  his  conversation  with 
the  others  while  every  song  lasted.  Lady  Middle- 
ton  frequently  called  him  to  order,  wondered  how 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY 


53 


any  one's  attention  could  be  diverted  from  music 
for  a  moment,  and  asked  Marianne  to  sing  a  par- 
ticular song  which  Marianne  had  just  finished. 
Colonel  Brandon  alone,  of  all  the  party,  heard  her 
without  being  in  raptures.  He  paid  her  only  the 
compliment  of  attention,  and  she  felt  a  respect  for 
him  on  the  occasion,  w^hich  the  others  had  reason- 
ably forfeited  by  their  shameless  want  of  taste. 
His  pleasure  in  music,  though  it  amounted  not 
to  that  ecstatic  delight  which  alone  could  sympa- 
thize with  her  own,  was  estimable  when  con- 
trasted against  the  horrible  insensibility  of  the 
others;  and  she  was  reasonable  enough  to  allow 
that  a  man  of  five-and-thirty  might  well  have  out- 
lived all  acuteness  of  feeling,  and  every  exquisite 
power  of  enjoyment.  She  was  perfectly  disposed 
to  make  every  allowance  for  the  colonel's  advanced 
state  of  life  which  humanity  required. 


CHAPTER  VIII, 


Mrs.  Jennings  was  a  widow  with  an  ample  joint- 
ure. She  had  only  two  daughters,  both  of  whom 
she  had  lived  to  see  respectably  married,  and  she 
had  now,  therefore,  nothing  to  do  but  to  marry  all 
the  rest  of  the  world.  In  the  promotion  of  this 
object  she  was  zealously  active,  as  far  as  her  abil- 
ity reached;  and  missed  no  opportunity  of  project- 
ing weddings  among  all  the  young  people  of  her 
acquaintance.  She  was  remarkably  quick  in  the 
discovery  of  attachments,  and  had  enjoyed  the  ad- 
vantage of  raising  the  blushes  and  the  vanity  of 
many  a  young  lady  by  insinuations  of  her  power 
over  such  a  young  man;  and  this  kind  of  discern- 
ment enabled  her,  soon  after  her  arrival  at  Barton, 
decisively  to  pronounce  that  Colonel  Brandon  was 
very  much  in  love  with  Marianne  Dashwood.  She 
rather  suspected  it  to  be  so,  on  the  very  first  even- 
ing of  their  being  together,  from  his  listening  so 
attentively  while  she  sang  to  them;  and  when  the 
visit  was  returned  by  the  Middletons  dining  at  the 
cottage,  the  fact  was  ascertained  by  his  listening 
to  her  again.  It  must  be  so.  Slie  was  perfectly 
convinced  of  it.    It  would  be  an  excellent  match, 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


55 


for  he  was  rich,  and  she  was  handsome.  Mrs. 
Jennings  had  been  anxious  to  see  Colonel  Bran- 
don well  married,  ever  since  her  connection  with 
Sir  John  first  brought  him  to  her  knowledge;  and 
she  was  always  anxious  to  get  a  good  husband  for 
every  pretty  girl. 

The  immediate  advantage  to  herself  was  by  no 
means  inconsiderable,  for  it  supplied  her  with 
endless  jokes  against  them  both.  At  the  Park 
she  laughed  at  the  colonel,  and  in  the  cottage  at 
Marianne.  To  the  former  her  raillery  was  prob- 
ably, as  far  as  it  regarded  only  himself,  perfectly 
indifferent :  but  to  the  latter  it  was  at  first  incom- 
prehensible; and  when  its  object  was  understood, 
she  hardly  knew  whether  most  to  laugh  at  its  ab- 
surdity, or  censure  its  impertinence,  —  for  she  con- 
sidered it  as  an  unfeeling  reflection  on  the  colonel's 
advanced  years,  and  on  his  forlorn  condition  as  an 
old  bachelor. 

Mrs.  Dash  wood,  who  could  not  think  a  man  five 
years  younger  than  herself  so  exceedingly  ancient 
as  he  appeared  to  the  youthful  fancy  of  her  daugh- 
ter, ventured  to  clear  Mrs.  Jennings  from  the 
probability  of  wishing  to  throw  ridicule  on  his 
age. 

' '  But  at  least,  mamma,  you  cannot  deny  the 
absurdity  of  the  accusation,  though  you  may  not 
think  it  intentionally  ill-natured.  Colonel  Bran- 
don is  certainly  younger  than  Mrs.  Jennings,  but 


56 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


he  is  old  enough  to  be  viy  father;  and  if  he  were 
ever  animated  enough  to  be  in  love,  must  have 
long  outlived  every  sensation  of  the  kind.  It  is 
too  ridiculous!  When  is  a  man  to  be  safe  from 
such  wit,  if  age  and  infirmity  will  not  protect 
him?  " 

"  Infirmity!  "  said  Elinor,  do  you  call  Colonel 
Brandon  infirm?  I  can  easily  suppose  that  his 
age  may  appear  much  greater  to  you  than  to  my 
mother;  but  you  can  hardly  deceive  yourself  as  to 
his  having  the  use  of  his  limbs? 

^^Did  not  you  hear  him  comxplain  of  the  rheu- 
matism, and  is  not  that  the  commonest  infirmity 
of  declining  life?  " 

"Mj  dearest  child,"  said  her  mother,  laughing, 
^^at  this  rate  you  must  be  in  continual  terror  of 
my  decay;  and  it  must  seem  to  you  a  miracle  that 
my  life  has  been  extended  to  the  advanced  age  of 
forty." 

^- Mamma,  you  are  not  doing  me  justice.  I 
know  very  well  that  Colonel  Brandon  is  not  old 
enough  to  make  his  friends  yet  apprehensive  of 
losing  him  in  the  course  of  nature.  He  may  live 
twenty  years  longer.  But  thirty-five  has  nothing 
to  do  with  matrimony." 

Perhaps, "  said  Elinor,  "  thirty-five  and  seven- 
teen had  better  not  have  anything  to  do  with  mat- 
rimony together.  But  if  there  should  by  any 
chance  happen  to  be  a  woman  who  is  single  at 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


57 


seven-and-twenty,  I  should  not  think  Colonel 
Brandon's  being  thirty-five  any  objection  to  his 
marrying  herJ^ 

"A.  woman  of  seven-and-twenty/'  said  Mari- 
anne, after  pausing  a  moment,  "  can  never  hope 
to  feel  or  inspire  affection  again;  and  if  her  home 
be  uncomfortable,  or  her  fortune  small,  I  can  sup- 
pose that  she  might  bring  herself  to  submit  to  the 
offices  of  a  nurse,  for  the  sake  of  the  provision  and 
security  of  a  wife.  In  his  marrying  such  a  woman, 
therefore,  there  would  be  nothing  unsuitable.  It 
would  be  a  compact  of  convenience,  and  the  world 
would  be  satisfied.  In  my  eyes  it  would  be  no 
marriage  at  all;  but  that  would  be  nothing.  To 
me  it  would  seem  only  a  commercial  exchange,  in 
which  each  wished  to  be  benefited  at  the  expense 
of  the  other.'' 

^^It  would  be  impossible,  I  know,"  replied 
Elinor,  "to  convince  you  that  a  woman  of  seven- 
and-twenty  could  feel  for  a  man  of  thirty-five 
anything  near  enough  to  love,  to  make  him  a  desir- 
able companion  to  her.  But  I  must  object  to  your 
dooming  Colonel  Brandon  and  his  wife  to  the  con- 
stant confinement  of  a  sick-chamber,  merely  be- 
cause he  chanced  to  complain  yesterday  (a  very 
cold,  damp  day)  of  a  slight  rheumatic  feel  in  one 
of  his  shoulders." 

^^But  he  talked  of  flannel  waistcoats,"  said 
Marianne ;  ' '  and  with  me  a  flannel  waistcoat  is 


58 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


invariably  connected  with  aches,  cramps,  rheuma- 
tisms, and  every  species  of  ailment  that  can  afflict 
the  old  and  the  feeble.'^ 

Had  he  been  only  in  a  violent  fever,  you  would 
not  have  despised  him  half  so  much.  Confess, 
Marianne,  is  not  there  something  interesting  to 
you  in  the  flushed  cheek,  hollow  eye,  and  quick 
pulse  of  a  fever  ? 

Soon  after  this,  upon  Elinor's  leaving  the  room, 
Mamma,'"  said  Marianne,  I  have  alarm  on  the 
subject  of  illness  which  I  cannot  conceal  from  you. 
I  am  sure  Edward  Eerrars  is  not  well.  We  have 
now  been  here  almost  a  fortnight,  and  yet  he  does 
not  come.  Nothing  but  real  indisposition  could 
occasion  this  extraordinary  delay.  What  else  can 
detain  him  at  Norland?  '' 

Had  you  any  idea  of  his  coming  so  soon? 
said  Mrs.  Dashwood.  Jhad  none.  On  the  con- 
trary, if  I  have  felt  any  anxiety  at  all  on  the  sub- 
ject, it  has  been  in  recollecting  that  he  sometimes 
showed  a  want  of  pleasure  and  readiness  in  accept- 
ing my  invitation,  when  I  talked  of  his  coming  to 
Barton.    Does  Elinor  expect  him  already?  '' 

^^I  have  never  mentioned  it  to  her,  but  of  course 
she  must." 

^^I  rather  think  you  are  mistaken,  for  when  I 
was  talking  to  her  yesterday  of  getting  a  new 
grate  for  the  spare  bedchamber,  she  observed 
that  there  was  no  immediate  hurry  for  it,  as  it 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


59 


was  not  likely  that  the  room  would  be  wanted  for 
some  time." 

^^How  strange  this  is!  what  can  be  the  mean- 
ing of  it!  But  the  whole  of  their  behavior  to  each 
other  has  been  unaccountable!  How  cold,  how 
composed  were  their  last  adieus!  How  languid 
their  conversation  the  last  evening  of  their  being 
together!  In  Edward's  farewell  there  was  no  dis- 
tinction between  Elinor  and  me :  it  was  the  good 
wishes  of  an  affectionate  brother  to  both.  Twice 
did  I  leave  them  purposely  together  in  the  course 
of  the  last  morning,  and  each  time  did  he  most 
unaccountably  follow  me  out  of  the  room.  And 
Elinor,  in  quitting  Norland  and  Edward,  cried 
not  as  I  did.  Even  now  her  self-command  is  in- 
variable. When  is  she  dejected  or  melancholy? 
When  does  she  try  to  avoid  society,  or  appear 
restless  and  dissatisfied  in  it? 


CHAPTEE  IX. 


The  Dasliwoods  were  now  settled  at  Barton  with 
tolerable  comfort  to  themselves.  The  house  and 
the  garden,  with  all  the  objects  surrounding  them, 
were  now  become  familiar,  and  the  ordinary  pur- 
suits which  had  given  to  Norland  half  its  charms 
were  engaged  in  again  with  far  greater  enjoyment 
than  Norland  had  been  able  to  afford  since  the 
loss  of  their  father.  Sir  John  Middleton,  who 
called  on  them  every  day  for  the  first  fortnight, 
and  who  was  not  in  the  habit  of  seeing  much  occu- 
pation at  home,  could  not  conceal  his  amazement 
on  finding  them  always  employed. 

Their  visitors,  except  those  from  Barton  Park, 
were  not  many;  for  in  spite  of  Sir  John's  urgent 
entreaties  that  they  would  mix  more  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  repeated  assurances  of  his  carriage 
being  always  at  their  service,  the  independence  of 
Mrs.  Dashwood's  spirit  overcame  the  wish  of  so- 
ciety for  her  children;  and  she  was  resolute  in 
declining  to  visit  any  family  beyond  the  distance 
of  a  walk.  There  were  but  few  who  could  be  so 
classed;  and  it  was  not  all  of  them  that  were  at- 
tainable.   About  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  cot- 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


61 


tage,  along  the  narrow  winding  valley  of  Allenliam, 
which  issued  from  that  of  Barton,  as  formerly 
described,  the  girls  had,  in  one  of  their  earliest 
walks,  discovered  an  ancient  respectable-looking 
mansion,  which,  by  reminding  them  a  little  of 
Norland,  interested  their  imagination  and  made 
them  wish  to  be  better  acquainted  w^itli  it.  But 
they  learned,  on  inquiry,  that  its  possessor,  an 
elderly  lady  of  very  good  character,  was  unfortu- 
nately too  infirm  to  mix  with  the  world,  and  never 
stirred  from  home. 

The  whole  country  about  them  abounded  in 
beautiful  walks.  The  high  downs,  which  invited 
them  from  almost  every  window  of  the  cottage  to 
seek  the  exquisite  enjoyment  of  air  on  their  sum- 
mits, were  a  happy  alternative  when  the  dirt  of 
the  valleys  beneath  shut  up  their  superior  beauties ; 
and  towards  one  of  these  hills  did  Marianne  and 
Margaret  one  memorable  morning  direct  their 
steps,  attracted  by  the  partial  sunshine  of  a 
showery  sky,  and  unable  longer  to  bear  the  con- 
finement which  the  settled  rain  of  the  two  pre- 
ceding days  had  occasioned.  The  weather  was 
not  tempting  enough  to  draw  the  two  others  from 
their  pencil  and  their  book,  in  spite  of  Marianne's 
declaration  that  the  day  would  be  lastingly  fair, 
and  that  every  threatening  cloud  would  be  drawn 
off  from  their  hills;  and  the  two  girls  set  off 
together. 


62 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBD  JTT. 


They  gayly  ascended  the  downs,  rejoicmg  in 
their  own  penetration  at  every  glimpse  of  blue 
sky;  and  when  they  caught  in  their  faces  the  ani- 
mating gales  of  a  high  southwesterly  wind,  they 
pitied  the  fears  which  had  prevented  their  mother 
and  Elinor  from  sharing  such  delightful  sensations. 

*^Is  there  a  felicity  in  the  world/'  said  Mari- 
anne, superior  to  this?  Margaret,  we  will  walk 
here  at  least  two  hours." 

Margaret  agreed,  and  they  pursued  their  way 
against  the  wind,  resisting  it  with  laughing  de- 
light for  about  twenty  minutes  longer,  when  sud- 
denly the  clouds  united  over  their  heads,  and  a 
driving  rain  set  full  in  their  face.  Chagrined  and 
surprised,  they  were  obliged,  though  unwillingly, 
to  turn  back,  for  no  shelter  was  nearer  than  their 
own  house.  One  consolation,  however,  remained 
for  them,  to  which  the  exigence  of  the  moment 
gave  more  than  usual  propriety,  —  it  was  that  of 
running  with  all  possible  speed  down  the  steep 
side  of  the  hill  which  led  immediately  to  their 
garden  gate. 

They  set  off.  Marianne  had  at  first  the  advan- 
tage, but  a  false  step  brought  her  suddenly  to  the 
ground;  and  Margaret,  unable  to  stop  herself  to 
assist  her,  was  involuntarily  hurried  along,  and 
reached  the  bottom  in  safety. 

A  gentleman  carrying  a  gun,  with  two  pointers 
playing  round  him,  was  passing  up  the  hill,  and 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


63 


within  a  few  yards  of  Marianne,  when  her  accident 
happened.  He  put  down  his  gun  and  ran  to  her 
assistance.  She  had  raised  herself  from  the 
ground,  but  her  foot  had  been  twisted  in  the  fall, 
and  she  was  scarcely  able  to  stand.  The  gentle- 
man offered  his  services,  and  perceiving  that  her 
modesty  declined  what  her  situation  rendered  ne- 
cessary, took  her  up  in  his  arms,  without  further 
delay  and  carried  her  down  the  hill.  Then  pass- 
ing through  the  garden,  the  gate  of  which  had 
been  left  open  by  Margaret,  he  bore  her  directly 
into  the  house,  whither  Margaret  was  just  arrived, 
and  quitted  not  his  hold  till  he  had  seated  her  in 
a  chair  in  the  parlor. 

Elinor  and  her  mother  rose  up  in  amazement  at 
their  entrance ;  and  while  the  eyes  of  both  were 
fixed  on  him  with  an  evident  wonder  and  a  secret 
admiration  which  equally  sprung  from  his  appear- 
ance, he  apologized  for  his  intrusion  by  relating 
its  cause,  in  a  manner  so  frank  and  so  graceful 
that  his  person,  which  was  uncommonly  handsome, 
received  additional  charms  from  his  voice  and  ex- 
pression. Had  he  been  even  old,  ugly,  and  vulgar, 
the  gratitude  and  kindness  of  Mrs.  Dashwood 
would  have  been  secured  by  any  act  of  attention 
to  her  child;  but  the  influence  of  youth,  beauty, 
and  elegance  gave  an  interest  to  the  action  which 
came  home  to  her  feelings. 

She  thanked  him  again  and  again,  and,  with  a 


64 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


sweetness  of  address  which  always  attended  her, 
invited  him  to  be  seated.  But  this  he  declined, 
as  he  was  dirty  and  wet.  Mrs.  Dash  wood  then 
begged  to  know  to  whom  she  was  obliged.  His 
name,  he  replied,  was  Willoughby,  and  his  present 
home  was  at  Allenham,  from  whence  he  hoped  she 
would  allow  him  the  honor  of  calling  to-morrow 
to  inquire  after  Miss  Dashwood.  The  honor  was 
readily  granted,  and  he  then  departed,  to  make 
himself  still  more  interesting,  in  the  midst  of  a 
heavy  rain. 

His  manly  beauty  and  more  than  common  grace- 
fulness were  instantly  the  theme  of  general  admi- 
ration; and  the  laugh  which  his  gallantry  raised 
against  Marianne  received  particular  spirit  from 
his  exterior  attractions.  Marianne  herself  had 
seen  less  of  his  person  than  the  rest ;  for  the  con- 
fusion which  crimsoned  over  her  face,  on  his  lift- 
ing her  up,  had  robbed  her  of  the  power  of  regarding 
him  after  their  entering  the  house.  But  she  had 
seen  enough  of  him  to  join  in  all  the  admiration 
of  the  others,  and  with  an  energy  which  always 
adorned  her  praise.  His  person  and  air  were 
equal  to  what  her  fancy  had  ever  drawn  for  the 
hero  of  a  favorite  story;  and  in  his  carrying  her 
into  the  house  with  so  little  previous  formality 
there  was  a  rapidity  of  thought  which  particularly 
recommended  the  action  to  her.  Every  circum- 
stance belonging  to  him  was  interesting.  His 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


65 


name  was  good,  his  residence  was  in  their  favorite 
village,  and  she  soon  found  out  that  of  all  manly 
dresses  a  shooting- jacket  was  the  most  becoming. 
Her  imagination  was  busy,  her  reflections  were 
pleasant,  and  the  pain  of  a  sprained  ankle  was 
disregarded. 

Sir  John  called  on  them  as  soon  as  the  next 
interval  of  fair  weather  that  morning  allowed  him 
to  get  out  of  doors;  and  Marianne's  accident  being 
related  to  him,  he  was  eagerly  asked  whether  he 
knew  any  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Willoughby 
at  Allenham. 

Willoughby !  cried  Sir  John;  ^'what,  is  he 
in  the  country?  That  is  good  news,  however;  I 
will  ride  over  to-morrow,  and  ask  him  to  dinner 
on  Thursday." 

You  know  him,  then,''  said  Mrs.  Dashwood. 

<^Know  him!  to  be  sure  I  do.  Why,  he  is 
down  here  every  year." 

And  what  sort  of  a  young  man  is  he?  " 
As  good  a  kind  of  fellow  as  ever  lived,  I  assure 
you.    A  very  decent  shot,  and  there  is  not  a 
bolder  rider  in  England." 

^'And  is  that  all  you  can  say  for  him?"  cried 
Marianne,  indignantly.  But  what  are  his  man- 
ners on  more  intimate  acquaintance?  What  his 
pursuits,  his  talents,  and  genius?  " 

Sir  John  was  rather  puzzled. 

^^Upon  my  soul,"  said  he,  ^'I  do  not  know 

VOL.  I.  —  5 


66 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


much  about  him  as  to  all  that.  But  he  is  a  pleas* 
aut,  good-humored  fellow,  and  has  got  the  nicest 
little  black  bitch  of  a  pointer  I  ever  saw.  Was 
she  out  with  him  to-day? 

But  Marianne  could  no  more  satisfy  him  as  to 
the  color  of  Mr.  Willoughby's  pointer,  than  he 
could  describe  to  her  the  shades  of  his  mind. 

^^But  who  is  he?''  said  Elinor.  Where  does 
he  come  from?    Has  he  a  house  at  Allenham?  " 

On  this  point  Sir  John  could  give  more  certain 
intelligence;  and  he  told  them  that  Mr.  Wil- 
loughby  had  no  property  of  his  own  in  the  country ; 
that  he  resided  there  only  while  he  was  visiting 
the  old  lady  at  Allenham  Court,  to  whom  he  was 
related,  and  whose  possessions  he  was  to  inherit; 
adding:  Yes,  yes,  he  is  very  well  worth  catch- 
ing, I  can  tell  you.  Miss  Dashwood  ;  he  has  a 
pretty  little  estate  of  his  own,  in  Somersetshire, 
besides;  and  if  I  were  you  I  would  not  give  him 
up  to  my  younger  sister,  in  spite  of  all  this  tum- 
bling down  hills.  Miss  Marianne  must  not  ex- 
pect to  have  all  the  men  to  herself.  Brandon  will 
be  jealous,  if  she  does  not  take  care.^' 

^^I  do  not  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Dashwood,  with 
a  good-humored  smile,  ^Hhat  Mr.  Willoughby  will 
be  incommoded  by  the  attempts  of  either  of  my 
daughters  towards  what  you  call  catching  him. 
It  is  not  an  emploj^ment  to  which  they  have  been 
brought  up.    Men  are  very  safe  with  us,  let  them 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


67 


be  ever  so  rich.  I  am  glad  to  find,  however,  from 
what  you  say,  that  he  is  a  respectable  young 
man,  and  one  whose  acquaintance  will  not  be 
ineligible/' 

^^He  is  as  good  a  sort  of  fellow,  I  believe,  as 
ever  lived,"  repeated  Sir  John.  ^^I  remember 
last  Christmas,  at  a  little  hop  at  the  Park,  he 
danced  from  eight  o'clock  till  four  without  once 
sitting  down." 

Did  he,  indeed?  "  cried  Marianne,  with  spark- 
ling eyes;  ^^and  with  elegance,  with  spirit?  " 

Yes;  and  he  was  up  again  at  eight  to  ride  to 
covert." 

^^That  is  what  I  like;  that  is  what  a  young 
man  ought  to  be.  Whatever  be  his  pursuits,  his 
eagerness  in  them  should  know  no  moderation,  and 
Jeave  him  no  sense  of  fatigue." 

^<  Ay,  ay,  I  see  how  it  will  be,"  said  Sir  John, 
"  I  see  how  it  will  be.  You  will  be  setting 
your  cap  at  him  now,  and  never  think  of  poor 
Brandon." 

<^That  is  an  expression.  Sir  John,"  said  Mari- 
anne, warmly,  which  I  particularly  dislike.  I 
abhor  every  commonplace  phrase  by  which  wit  is 
intended;  and  ^setting  one's  cap  at  a  man,'  and 
^making  a  conquest,'  are  the  most  odious  of  all. 
Their  tendency  is  gross  and  illiberal;  and  if  their 
construction  could  ever  be  deemed  clever,  time  has 
long  ago  destroyed  all  its  ingenuity.'^ 


68 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


Sir  John  did  not  much  understand  this  reproof; 
but  he  laughed  as  heartily  as  if  he  did,  and  then 
replied,  — 

^^Ay,  you  will  make  conquests  enough,  I  dare 
say,  one  way  or  other.  Poor  Brandon!  he  is  quite 
smitten  already;  and  he  is  very  well  worth  setting 
your  cap  at,  I  can  tell  you,  in  spite  of  all  this 
tumbling  about  and  spraining  of  ankles.'^ 


CHAPTEE  X. 


Marianne's  preserver,  as  Margaret,  with  more 
elegance  than  precision,  styled  Willoughby,  called 
at  the  cottage  early  the  next  morning,  to  make 
his  personal  inquiries.  He  was  received  by  Mrs. 
Dashwood  with  more  than  politeness,  with  a  kind- 
ness which  Sir  John's  account  of  him  and  her  own 
gratitude  prompted;  and  everything  that  passed 
during  the  visit  tended  to  assure  him  of  the  sense, 
elegance,  mutual  affection,  and  domestic  comfort  of 
the  family  to  whom  accident  had  now  introduced 
him.  Of  their  personal  charms  he  had  not  re- 
quired a  second  interview  to  he  convinced. 

Miss  Dashwood  had  a  delicate  complexion,  regu- 
lar features,  and  a  remarkably  pretty  figure.  Mari- 
anne was  still  handsomer.  Her  form,  though  not 
so  correct  as  her  sister's,  in  having  the  advantage 
of  height  was  more  striking;  and  her  face  was  so 
lovely  that  when,  in  the  common  cant  of  praise, 
she  was  called  a  beautiful  girl,  truth  was  less  vio* 
lently  outraged  than  usually  happens.  Her  skin 
was  very  brown,  but,  from  its  transparency,  her 
complexion  was  uncommonly  brilliant;  her  features 
were  all  good;  her  smile  was  sweet  and  attractive; 


70 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


and  in  her  eyes,  which  were  very  dark,  there  was 
a  life,  a  spirit,  an  eagerness,  which  could  hardly 
be  seen  without  delight.  From  Willoughby  their 
expression  was  at  first  held  back,  by  the  embar- 
rassment which  the  remembrance  of  his  assistance 
created.  But  when  this  passed  away,  when  her 
spirits  became  collected,  when  she  saw  that  to  the 
perfect  good-breeding  of  the  gentleman  he  united 
frankness  and  vivacity,  and  above  all  when  she 
heard  him  declare  that  of  music  and  dancing  he 
was  passionately  fond,  she  gave  him  such  a  look 
of  approbation  as  secured  the  largest  share  of  his 
discourse  to  herself  for  the  rest  of  his  stay. 

It  was  only  necessary  to  mention  any  favorite 
amusement  to  engage  her  to  talk.  She  could  not 
be  silent  when  such  points  were  introduced,  and 
she  had  neither  shyness  nor  reserve  in  their  dis- 
cussion. They  speedily  discovered  that  their  en- 
joyment of  dancing  and  music  was  mutual,  and 
that  it  arose  from  a  general  conformity  of  judg- 
ment in  all  that  related  to  either.  Encouraged  by 
this  to  a  further  examination  of  his  opinions,  she 
proceeded  to  question  him  on  the  subject  of  books: 
her  favorite  authors  were  brought  forward  and  dwelt 
upon  with  so  rapturous  a  delight  that  any  young 
man  of  five-and-twenty  must  have  been  insensible 
indeed,  not  to  become  an  immediate  convert  ^o  the 
excellence  of  such  works,  however  disregarded  be- 
fore.   Their  taste  was  strikingly  alike.    The  same 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


71 


books,  the  same  passages,  were  idolized  by  each; 
or  if  any  difference  appeared,  any  objection  arose, 
it  lasted  no  longer  than  till  the  force  of  her  argu- 
ments and  the  brightness  of  her  eyes  could  be  dis- 
played. He  acquiesced  in  all  her  decisions,  caught 
all  her  enthusiasm;  and  long  before  his  visit  con- 
cluded, they  conversed  with  the  familiarity  of  a 
long-established  acquaintance. 

Well,  Marianne,''  said  Elinor,  as  soon  as  he 
had  left  them,  "  for  one  morning  I  think  you  have 
done  pretty  w^ell.  You  have  already  ascertained 
Mr.  Willoughby's  opinion  in  almost  every  matter 
of  importance.  You  know  what  he  thinks  of 
Cowper  and  Scott;  you  are  certain  of  his  estimat- 
ing their  beauties  as  he  ought,  and  you  have  re- 
ceived every  assurance  of  his  admiring  Pope  no 
more  than  is  proper.  But  how  is  your  acquaint- 
ance to  be  long  supported,  under  such  extraordi- 
nary despatch  of  every  subject  for  discourse?  You 
will  soon  have  exhausted  each  favorite  topic.  An- 
other meeting  will  suffice  to  explain  his  sentiments 
on  picturesque  beauty  and  second  marriages,  and  ' 
then  you  can  have  nothing  further  to  ask.'' 

Elinor,"  cried  Marianne,  is  this  fair,  is  this 
just?  Are  my  ideas  so  scanty?  But  I  see  what  you 
mean.  I  have  been  too  much  at  my  ease,  too  happy, 
too  frank.  I  have  erred  against  every  common- 
place notion  of  decorum;  I  have  been  open  and 
sincere  where  1  ought  to  have  been  reserved,  spirit- 


72 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY, 


less,  dull,  and  deceitful.  Had  I  talked  only  of 
the  weather  and  the  roads,  and  had  I  spoken  only 
once  in  ten  minutes,  this  reproach  would  have  been 
spared.'' 

My  love,"  said  her  mother,  you  must  not  be 
offended  with  Elinor;  she  was  only  in  jest.  I 
should  scold  her  myself,  if  she  were  capable  of 
wishing  to  check  the  delight  of  your  conversa- 
tion with  our  new  friend."  Marianne  was  soft- 
ened in  a  moment. 

Willoughby,  on  his  side,  gave  every  proof  of  his 
pleasure  in  their  acquaintance  which  an  evident 
wish  of  improving  it  could  offer.  He  came  to 
them  every  day.  To  inquire  after  Marianne  was 
at  first  his  excuse;  but  the  encouragement  of  his 
reception,  to  which  every  day  gave  greater  kind- 
ness, made  such  an  excuse  unnecessary  before  it 
had  ceased  to  be  possible,  by  Marianne's  perfect 
recovery.  She  was  confined  for  some  days  to  the 
house;  but  never  had  any  confinement  been  less 
irksome.  Willoughby  was  a  young  man  of  good 
abilities,  quick  imagination,  lively  spirits,  and 
open,  affectionate  manners.  He  was  exactly  formed 
to  engage  Marianne's  heart;  for  with  all  this, 
he  joined  not  only  a  captivating  person,  but  a 
natural  ardor  of  mind  which  was  now  roused  and 
increased  by  the  example  of  her  own,  and  which 
recommended  him  to  her  affection  beyond  every- 
thing else. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


73 


His  society  became  gradually  her  most  exquisite 
enjoyment.  They  read,  they  talked,  they  sang  to- 
gether; his  musical  talents  were  considerable;  and 
he  read  with  all  the  sensibility  and  spirit  which 
Edward  had  unfortunately  wanted. 

In  Mrs.  Dashwood^s  estimation  he  was  as  fault- 
less as  in  Marianne^s;  and  Elinor  saw  nothing  to 
censure  in  him  but  a  propensity,  in  which  he 
strongly  resembled  and  peculiarly  delighted  her 
sister,  of  saying  too  much  what  he  thought  on 
every  occasion,  without  attention  to  persons  or 
circumstances.  In  hastily  forming  and  giving 
his  opinion  of  other  people,  in  sacrificing  general 
politeness  to  the  enjoyment  of  undivided  atten- 
tion where  his  heart  was  engaged,  and  in  slight 
ing  too  easily  the  forms  of  worldly  propriety,  he 
displayed  a  want  of  caution  which  Elinor  could 
not  approve,  in  spite  of  all  that  he  and  Marianne 
could  say  in  its  support. 

Marianne  began  now  to  perceive  that  the  desper- 
ation which  had  seized  her  at  sixteen  and  a  half,  of 
ever  seeing  a  man  who  could  satisfy  her  ideas  of 
perfection,  had  been  rash  and  unjustifiable.  Wil- 
loughby  was  all  that  her  fancy  had  delineated  in 
that  unhappy  hour,  and  in  every  brighter  period, 
as  capable  of  attaching  her;  and  his  behavior  de- 
clared his  wishes  to  be  in  that  respect  as  earnest 
as  his  abilities  were  strong. 

Her  mother,  too,  in  whose  mind  not  one  specu- 


74  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


lative  thought  of  their  marriage  had  been  raised, 
by  his  prospect  of  riches,  was  led  before  the  end 
of  a  week  to  hope  and  expect  it  ;  and  secretly  to 
congratulate  herself  on  having  gained  two  such 
sons-in-law  as  Edward  and  Willoughby. 

Colonel  Brandon's  partiality  for  Marianne, 
which  had  so  earl}'-  been  discovered  by  his  friends, 
now  first  became  perceptible  to  Elinor,  when  it 
ceased  to  be  noticed  b}^  them.  Their  attention 
and  wit  were  drawn  off  to  his  more  fortunate 
rival;  and  the  raillery  which  the  other  had 
incurred  before  any  partiality  arose  was  removed 
when  his  feelings  began  really  to  call  for  the 
ridicule  so  justly  annexed  to  sensibility.  Elinor 
was  obliged,  though  unwillingly,  to  believe  that 
the  sentiments  which  Mrs.  Jennings  had  assigned 
him  for  her  own  satisfaction  were  now  actually 
excited  by  her  sister;  and  that  however  a  general 
resemblance  of  disposition  between  the  parties 
might  forward  the  affection  of  Mr.  Willoughb}^, 
an  equally  striking  opposition  of  character  was 
no  hindrance  to  the  regard  of  Colonel  Brandon. 
She  saw  it  with  concern ;  for  what  could  a  silent 
man  of  five-and-thirty  hope,  when  opposed  by  a 
very  lively  one  of  five-and-twenty?  and  as  she 
could  not  even  wish  him  successful,  she  heartily 
wished  him  indifferent.  She  liked  him,  —  in 
spite  of  his  gravity  and  reserve,  she  beheld  in  him 
an  object  of  interest.    His  manners,  though  serious, 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY.  75 


were  mild;  and  his  reserve  appeared  rather  the 
result  of  some  oppression  of  spirits  than  of  any 
natural  gloominess  of  temper.  Sir  John  had 
dropped  hints  of  past  injuries  and  disappoint- 
ments, which  justified  her  belief  of  his  being  an 
unfortunate  man,  and  she  regarded  him  with 
respect  and  compassion. 

Perhaps  she  pitied  and  esteemed  him  the  more 
because  he  was  slighted  by  Willoughby  and 
Marianne,  who,  prejudiced  against  him  for  be- 
ing neither  lively  nor  young,  seemed  resolved  to 
undervalue  his  merits. 

Brandon  is  just  the  kind  of  man,"  said 
Willoughby  one  day,  when  they  were  talking  of 
him  together,  ^^whoni  everybody  speaks  well  of, 
and  nobody  cares  about;  whom  all  are  delighted 
to  see,  and  nobody  remembers  to  talk  to.'' 

^^That  is  exactly  what  I  think  of  him,"  cried 
Marianne. 

^^Do  not  boast  of  it,  however,"  said  Elinor, 
^^for  it  is  injustice  in  both  of  you.  He  is  highly 
esteemed  by  all  the  family  at  the  Park,  and  I 
never  see  him  myself  without  taking  pains  to 
converse  with  him." 

^^That  he  is  patronized  by  you,^^  replied  Wil- 
loughby, "  is  certainly  in  his  favor;  but  as  for  the 
esteem  of  the  others,  it  is  a  reproach  in  itself. 
Who  would  submit  to  the  indignity  of  being  ap- 
proved by  such  women  as  Lady  Middleton  and 


76 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


Mrs.  Jennings,  that  could  command  the  indiffer- 
ence of  anybody  else  ?  " 

But  perhaps  the  abuse  of  such  people  as  yourself 
and  Marianne  will  make  amends  for  the  regard  of 
Lady  Middleton  and  her  mother.  If  their  praise 
is  censure,  your  censure  may  be  praise;  for  they 
are  not  more  undiscerning  than  you  are  prejudiced 
and  unjust." 

In  defence  of  your  protege  you  can  even  be 
saucy." 

^*My  protege^  as  you  call  him,  is  a  sensible 
man  ;  and  sense  will  always  have  attractions  for 
me,  —  yes,  Marianne,  even  in  a  man  between 
thirty  and  forty.  He  has  seen  a  great  deal  of 
the  world  ;  has  been  abroad,  has  read,  and  has  a 
thinking  mind.  I  have  found  him  capable  of  giv- 
ing me  much  information  on  various  subjects;  and 
he  has  always  answered  my  inquiries  with  the 
readiness  of  good  breeding  and  good  nature." 

^^That  is  to  say,"  cried  Marianne,  contempt- 
uouslj^,  ^  Hie  has  told  you  that  in  the  East  Indies 
the  climate  is  hot  and  the  mosquitoes  are 
troublesome." 

"  He  would  have  told  me  so,  I  doubt  not,  had  I 
made  any  such  inquiries ;  but  they  happened  to  be 
points  on  which  I  had  been  previously  informed." 

Perhaps,"  said  Willoughby,  ^^his  observa- 
tions may  have  extended  to  the  existence  of  nabobs, 
gold  molirs,  and  palanquins." 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY.  77 


may  venture  to  say  that  his  observations 
have  stretched  much  farther  than  your  candor. 
But  why  should  you  dislike  him?  " 

I  do  not  dislike  him.  I  consider  him,  on  the 
contrary,  as  a  very  respectable  man,  who  has 
everybody's  good  word  and  nobody's  notice;  who 
has  more  money  than  he  can  spend,  more  time 
than  he  knows  how  to  employ,  and  two  new  coats 
every  year. ' ' 

^^Add  to  which/'  cried  Marianne,  ^^that  he 
has  neither  genius,  taste,  nor  spirit;  that  his 
understanding  has  no  brilliancy,  his  feelings  no 
ardor,  and  his  voice  no  expression." 

^^You  decide  on  his  imperfections  so  much  in 
the  mass,"  replied  Elinor,  ^^and  so  much  on  the 
strength  of  your  own  imagination,  that  the  com- 
mendation /  am  able  to  give  of  him  is  com- 
paratively cold  and  insipid.  I  can  only  pronounce 
him  to  be  a  sensible  man,  well  bred,  well  in- 
formed, of  gentle  address,  and,  I  believe,  possess- 
ing an  amiable  heart." 

^^Miss  Dashwood,"  cried  Willoughby,  ^'you 
are  now  using  me  unkindly.  You  are  endeavoring 
to  disarm  me  by  reason,  and  to  convince  me 
against  my  will.  But  it  will  not  do.  You  shall 
find  me  as  stubborn  as  you  can  be  artful.  I  have 
three  unanswerable  reasons  for  disliking  Colonel 
Brandon :  he  has  threatened  me  with  rain  when  I 
wanted  it  to  be  fine;  he  has  found  fault  with  the 


78 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


hanging  of  my  curricle,  and  I  cannot  persuade  him 
to  buy  my  brown  mare.  If  it  will  be  any  satis- 
faction to  you,  however,  to  be  told  that  I  believe 
his  character  to  be  in  other  respects  irreproachable, 
I  am  ready  to  confess  it.  And  in  return  for  an  ac- 
knowledgment which  must  give  me  some  pain, 
you  cannot  deny  me  the  privilege  of  disliking  him 
as  much  as  ever.'' 


CHAPTER  XI. 


Little  had  Mrs.  Dasliwood  or  her  daughters 
imagined,  when  they  first  came  into  Devonshire, 
that  so  many  engagements  would  arise  to  occupy 
their  time  as  shortly  presented  themselves,  or  that 
they  should  have  such  frequent  invitations  and 
such  constant  visitors  as  to  leave  them  little  lei- 
sure for  serious  employment.  Yet  such  was  the 
case.  When  Marianne  was  recovered,  the  schemes 
of  amusement  at  home  and  abroad,  which  Sir  John 
had  been  previously  forming,  were  put  in  execu- 
tion. The  private  balls  at  the  Park  then  began; 
and  parties  on  the  water  were  made  and  ac- 
complished as  often  as  a  showery  October  would 
allow.  In  every  meeting  of  the  kind  Willoughby 
was  included;  and  the  ease  and  familiarity  which 
naturally  attended  these  parties  were  exactly 
calculated  to  give  increasing  intimacy  to  his  ac- 
quaintance with  the  Dashwoods,  to  afford  him 
opportunity  of  witnessing  the  excellences  of 
Marianne,  of  marking  his  animated  admiration 
of  her,  and  of  receiving,  in  her  behavior  to  him- 
self, the  most  pointed  assurance  of  her  affection. 


80 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


Elinor  could  not  be  surprised  at  their  attacli- 
ment.  She  only  wished  that  it  were  less  openly 
shown;  and  once  or  twice  did  venture  to  suggest 
the  propriety  of  some  self-command  to  Marianne. 
But  Marianne  abhorred  all  concealment  where  no 
real  disgrace  could  attend  unreserve ;  and  to  aim  at 
the  restraint  of  sentiments  which  were  not  in 
themselves  illaudable,  appeared  to  her  not  merely 
an  unnecessary  effort,  but  a  disgraceful  subjection 
of  reason  to  commonplace  and  mistaken  notions. 
Willoughby  thought  the  same  j  and  their  be* 
havior  at  all  times  w^as  an  illustration  of  their 
opinions. 

When  he  was  present,  she  had  no  eyes  for  any 
one  else.  Everything  he  did  was  right;  every- 
thing he  said  was  clever.  If  their  evenings  at  the 
Park  were  concluded  with  cards,  he  cheated  him- 
self and  all  the  rest  of  the  party  to  get  her  a  good 
hand.  If  dancing  formed  the  amusement  of  the 
night,  they  were  partners  for  half  the  time;  and 
when  obliged  to  separate  for  a  couple  of  dances, 
were  careful  to  stand  together,  and  scarcely  spoke 
a  word  to  anybody  else.  Such  conduct  made 
them,  of  course,  most  exceedingly  laughed  at; 
but  ridicule  could  not  shame,  and  seemed  hardly 
to  provoke  them. 

Mrs.  Dashwood  entered  into  all  their  feelings 
with  a  warmth  which  left  her  no  inclination  for 
checking  this  excessive  display  of  them.    To  her 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


81 


it  was  but  the  natural  consequence  of  a  strong 
affection  in  a  young  and  ardent  mind. 

This  was  the  season  of  happiness  to  Marianne. 
Her  heart  was  devoted  to  Willoughhy;  and  the 
fond  attachment  to  Norland,  which  she  brought 
with  her  from  Sussex,  was  more  likely  to  be  soft- 
ened than  she  had  thought  it  possible  before,  by 
the  charms  which  his  society  bestowed  on  her 
present  home. 

Elinor's  happiness  was  not  so  great.  Her  heart 
was  not  so  much  at  ease,  nor  her  satisfaction  in 
their  amusements  so  pure.  They  afforded  her  no 
companion  that  could  make  amends  for  wdiat  she 
had  left  behind,  nor  that  could  teach  her  to  think 
of  Norland  with  less  regret  than  ever.  Neither 
Lady  Middleton  nor  Mrs.  Jennings  could  supply 
to  her  the  conversation  she  missed;  although  the 
latter  was  an  everlasting  talker,  and  from  the  first 
had  regarded  her  with  a  kindness  which  insured 
her  a  large  share  of  her  discourse.  She  had  al- 
ready repeated  her  own  history  to  Elinor  three  or 
four  times;  and  had  Elinor's  memory  been  equal 
to  her  means  of  improvement,  she  might  have 
known,  very  early  in  her  acquaintance,  all  the 
particulars  of  Mr.  Jennings's  last  illness,  and 
what  he  said  to  his  wife  a  few  minutes  before  he 
died.  Lady  Middleton  was  more  agreeable  than 
her  mother  only  in  being  more  silent.  Elinor 
needed  little  observation  to  perceive  that  her  re- 

VOL.  I.  —  6 


82 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


serve  was  a  mere  calmness  of  manner,  with  which 
sense  had  nothing  to  do.  Towards  her  husband 
and  mother  she  was  the  same  as  to  them;  and 
intimacy  was,  therefore,  neither  to  be  looked  for 
nor  desired.  She  had  nothing  to  say  one  day  that 
she  had  not  said  the  day  before.  Her  insij^idity 
was  invariable,  for  even  her  spirits  were  always 
the  same;  and  though  she  did  not  oppose  the 
parties  arranged  by  her  husband,  provided  every- 
thing were  conducted  in  style,  and  her  two  eldest 
children  attended  her,  she  never  appeared  to  re- 
ceive more  enjoyment  from  them  than  she  might 
have  experienced  in  sitting  at  home;  and  so  little 
did  her  presence  add  to  the  pleasure  of  the  others, 
by  any  share  in  their  conversation,  that  they  were 
sometimes  only  reminded  of  her  being  amongst 
them  by  her  solicitude  about  her  troublesome 
boys. 

In  Colonel  Brandon  alone,  of  all  her  new  ac- 
quaintance, did  Elinor  find  a  person  who  could  in 
any  degree  claim  the  respect  of  abilities,  excite 
the  interest  of  friendship,  or  give  pleasure  as  a 
companion.  Willoughby  was  out  of  the  question. 
Her  admiration  and  regard,  even  her  sisterly  re- 
gard, was  all  his  own;  but  he  was  a  lover:  his 
attentions  were  wholly  Marianne's,  and  a  far  less 
agreeable  man  might  have  been  more  generally 
pleasing.  Colonel  Brandon,  unfortunately  for 
himself,  had  no  such  encouragement  to  think  only 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


83 


of  Marianne,  and  in  conversing  with  Elinor  lie 
found  the  greatest  consolation  for  the  total  indif- 
ference of  her  sister. 

Elinor^s  compassion  for  him  increased,  as  she 
had  reason  to  suspect  that  the  misery  of  disap- 
pointed love  had  alreadj^  been  known  to  him. 
This  suspicion  was  given  by  some  words  which 
accidentally  dropped  from  him  one  evening  at  the 
Park,  when  they  were  sitting  down  together  by 
mutual  consent,  while  the  others  were  dancing. 
His  eyes  were  fixed  on  Marianne,  and  after  a 
silence  of  some  minutes,  he  said,  with  a  faint 
smile,  ^^Your  sister,  I  understand,  does  not  ap- 
prove of  second  attachm^ents." 

^^No, "  replied  Elinor;  ^^her  opinions  are  all 
romantic." 

^^Or  rather,  as  I  believe,  she  considers  them 
impossible  to  exist. 

^^I  believe  she  does.  But  how  she  contrives  it 
without  reflecting  on  the  character  of  her  own 
father,  who  had  himself  two  wives,  I  know  not. 
A  few  years,  however,  will  settle  her  opinions  on 
the  reasonable  basis  of  common-sense  and  observa- 
tion; and  then  they  may  be  more  easy  to  define 
and  to  justify  than  they  now  are,  by  anybody  but 
herself." 

^^This  will  probably  be  the  case, "  he  replied; 
^'and  yet  there  is  something  so  amiable  in  the 
prejudices  of  a  young  mind  that  one  is  sorry  to 


84 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


see  tlicm  give  way  to  the  reception  of  more  general 
opinions." 

I  cannot  agree  with  you  there/'  said  Elinor. 
^*  There  are  inconveniences  attending  such  feelings 
as  Marianne's  which  all  the  charms  of  enthusiasm 
and  ignorance  of  the  world  cannot  atone  for.  Her 
systems  have  all  the  unfortunate  tendency  of  set- 
ting propriety  at  naught;  and  a  better  acquaint- 
ance with  the  world  is  what  I  look  forward  to  as 
her  greatest  possible  advantage." 

After  a  short  pause  he  resumed  the  conversation 
by  saying,— 

^^Does  your  sister  make  no  distinction  in  her 
objections  against  a  second  attachment,  or  is  it 
equally  criminal  in  everybody?  Are  those  who 
have  been  disappointed  in  their  first  choice, 
whether  from  the  inconstancy  of  its  object  or  the 
perverseness  of  circumstances,  to  be  equally  indif- 
ferent during  the  rest  of  their  lives?  " 

^ '  Upon  my  word,  I  am  not  acquainted  with  the 
minutise  of  her  principles.  I  only  know  that  I 
never  yet  heard  her  admit  any  instance  of  a  second 
attachment  being  pardonable." 

^^This,"  said  he,  cannot  hold;  but  a  change, 
a  total  change  of  sentiments  —  No,  no,  do  not  de- 
sire it;  for  when  the  romantic  refinements  of  a 
young  mind  are  obliged  to  give  way,  how  fre- 
quently are  they  succeeded  by  such  opinions  as  are 
but  too  common  and  too  dangerous!    I  speak  from 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


85 


experience.  I  once  knew  a  lady  who  in  temper 
and  mind  greatly  resembled  your  sister,  who 
thought  and  judged  like  her,  but  who  from  an 
enforced  change  —  from  a  series  of  unfortunate 
circumstances  —  ^'  Here  he  stopped  suddenly; 
appeared  to  think  that  he  had  said  too  much,  and 
by  his  countenance  gave  rise  to  conjectures  which 
might  not  otherwise  have  entered  Elinor's  head. 
The  lady  would  probably  have  passed  without 
suspicion  had  he  not  convinced  Miss  Dashwood 
that  v/hat  concerned  her  ought  not  to  escape  his 
lips.  As  it  was,  it  required  but  a  slight  effort  of 
fancy  to  connect  his  emotion  with  the  tender  recol- 
lection of  past  regard.  Elinor  attempted  no  more ; 
but  Marianne,  in  her  place,  would  not  have  done 
so  little.  The  whole  story  would  have  been 
speedily  formed  under  her  active  imagination,  and 
everything  established  in  the  most  melancholy 
order  of  disastrous  love. 


CHAPTEE  XII. 


As  Elinor  and  Marianne  were  walking  together 
the  next  morning,  the  latter  communicated  a  piece 
of  news  to  her  sister,  which,  in  spite  of  all  that 
she  knew  before  of  Marianne's  imprudence  and 
want  of  thought,  surprised  her  by  its  extravagant 
testimony  of  both.  Marianne  told  her,  with  the 
greatest  delight,  that  Willoughby  had  given  her  a 
horse,  one  that  he  had  bred  himself  on  his  estate 
in  Somersetshire,  and  which  was  exactly  calculated 
to  carry  a  woman.  Without  considering  that  it 
was  not  in  her  mother's  plan  to  keep  any  horse,  — 
that  if  she  were  to  alter  her  resolution  in  favor  of 
this  gift,  she  must  buy  another  for  the  servant, 
and  keep  a  servant  to  ride  it,  and  after  all,  build 
a  stable  to  receive  them  —  she  had  accej)ted  the 
present  without  hesitation,  and  told  her  sister  of 
it  in  raptures. 

^^He  intends  to  send  his  groom  into  Somerset- 
shire immediately  for  it, ' '  she  added ;  ' '  and  when 
it  arrives  we  will  ride  every  day.  You  shall  share 
its  use  with  me.  Imagine  to  yourself,  my  dear 
Elinor,  the  delight  of  a  gallop  on  some  of  these 
downs." 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


87 


Most  unwilling  was  she  to  awaken  from  sucli  a 
dream  of  felicity  to  comprehend  all  the  unhappy 
truths  which  attended  tlie  affair,  and  for  some  time 
she  refused  to  submit  to  them.  As  to  an  additional 
servant,  the  expense  would  be  a  trifle;  mamma, 
she  was  sure,  would  never  object  to  it;  and  any 
horse  would  do  for  him;  he  might  always  get  one 
at  the  Park;  as  to  a  stable,  the  merest  shed  would 
be  sufficient.  Elinor  then  ventured  to  doubt  the 
propriety  of  her  receiving  such  a  present  from  a 
man  so  little,  or  at  least  so  lately,  known  to  her. 
This  w^as  too  much. 

You  are  mistaken,  Elinor,"  said  she,  warmly, 

in  supposing  I  know  very  little  of  Willoughby. 
I  have  not  known  him  long,  indeed;  but  I  am 
much  better  acquainted  with  him  than  I  am  with 
any  other  creature  in  the  world,  except  yourself 
and  mamma.  It  is  not  time  or  opportunity  that  is 
to  determine  intimacy;  it  is  disposition  alone. 
Seven  years  would  be  insufficient  to  make  some 
people  acquainted  with  each  other,  and  seven  days 
are  more  than  enough  for  others.  I  should  hold 
myself  guilty  of  greater  impropriety  in  accepting 
a  horse  from  my  brother  than  from  Willoughby. 
Of  John  I  know  very  little,  though  we  have  lived 
together  for  years;  but  of  Willoughby  my  judg- 
ment has  long  been  formed." 

Elinor  thought  it  wisest  to  touch  that  point  no 
more.    She  knew  her  sister's  temper.  Opposition 


88 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


on  so  tender  a  subject  would  only  attach  her  the 
more  to  her  own  opinion.  But  by  an  appeal  to 
her  affection  for  her  mother,  by  representing  the 
inconveniences  which  that  indulgent  mother  must 
draw  on  herself,  if  (as  would  probably  be  the  case) 
she  consented  to  this  increase  of  establishment, 
Marianne  was  shortly  subdued;  and  she  promised 
not  to  tempt  her  mother  to  such  imprudent  kind- 
ness by  mentioning  the  offer,  and  to  tell  Wil- 
loughby,  when  she  saw  him  next,  that  it  must 
be  declined. 

She  was  faithful  to  her  word;  and  when  Wil- 
loughby  called  at  the  cottage  the  same  day,  Elinor 
heard  her  express  her  disappointment  to  him  in  a 
low  voice  on  being  obliged  to  foiego  the  acceptance 
of  his  present.  The  reasons  for  this  alteration 
were  at  the  same  time  related,  and  they  were  such 
as  to  make  further  entreaty  on  his  side  impossible. 
His  concern,  however,  was  very  apparent;  and 
after  expressing  it  with  earnestness,  he  added,  in 
the  same  low  voice*.  ^^But,  Marianne,  the  horse  is 
still  yours,  though  you  cannot  use  it  now.  I  shall 
keep  it  only  till  you  can  claim  it.  When  you 
leave  Barton  to  form  your  own  establishment  in  a 
more  lasting  home.  Queen  Mab  shall  receive  you." 

This  w^as  all  overheard  by  Miss  Dashwood;  and 
in  the  whole  of  the  sentence,  in  his  manner  of  pro- 
nouncing it,  and  in  his  addressing  her  sister  by 
her  Christian  name  alone,  she  instantly  saw  an 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


89 


intimacy  so  decided,  a  meaning  so  direct,  as  marked 
a  perfect  agreement  between  them.  From  that 
moment  she  doubted  not  of  their  being  engaged  to 
each  other;  and  the  belief  of  it  created  no  other 
surprise  than  that  she,  or  any  of  their  friends, 
should  be  left,  by  tempers  so  frank,  to  discover  it 
by  accident. 

Margaret  related  something  to  her  the  next  day, 
which  placed  this  matter  in  a  still  clearer  light. 
Willoughby  had  spent  the  preceding  evening  with 
them;  and  Margaret,  by  being  left  some  time  in 
the  parlor  w^th  only  him  and  Marianne,  had  had 
op23ortunity  for  observations,  which,  with  a  most 
important  face,  she  communicated  to  her  eldest 
sister,  when  they  were  next  by  themselves. 

^^Oh,  Elinor!  she  cried,  ^^I  have  such  a  se- 
cret to  tell  you  about  Marianne.  I  am  sure  she 
will  be  married  to  Mr.  Willoughby  very  soon.'^ 

^^You  have  said  so,"  replied  Elinor,  almost 
every  day  since  they  first  met  on  Highchurch 
Down;  and  they  had  not  known  each  other  a  week, 
I  believe,  before  you  were  certain  that  Marianne 
wore  his  picture  round  her  neck;  but  it  turned  out 
to  be  only  the  miniature  of  our  great-uncle.'' 

But,  indeed,  this  is  quite  another  thing.  I 
am  sure  they  will  be  married  very  soon,  for  he 
has  got  a  lock  of  her  hair." 

'^Take  care,  Margaret.  It  may  be  only  the 
hair  of  some  great-uncle  of  Ais." 


90  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


^^But,  indeed,  Elinor,  it  is  Marianne's.  I  am 
almost  sure  it  is,  for  I  saw  him  cut  it  off.  Last 
night,  after  tea,  when  you  and  mamma  went  out 
of  the  room,  they  were  whispering  and  talking  to- 
gether as  fast  as  could  be,  and  he  seemed  to  be 
begging  something  of  her,  and  presently  he  took 
up  her  scissors  and  cut  off  a  long  lock  of  her  hair, 
for  it  was  all  tumbled  down  her  back;  and  he 
kissed  it,  and  folded  it  up  in  a  piece  of  white 
paper,  and  put  it  into  his  pocket-book.'' 

Erom  such  particulars,  stated  on  such  authority, 
Elinor  could  not  withhold  her  credit;  nor  was  she 
disposed  to  it,  for  the  circumstance  was  in  perfect 
unison  with  what  she  had  heard  and  seen  herself. 

Margaret's  sagacity  was  not  always  displayed  in 
a  way  so  satisfactory  to  her  sister.  When  Mrs. 
Jennings  attacked  her  one  evening  at  the  Park,  to 
give  the  name  of  the  young  man  who  was  Elinor's 
particular  favorite,  which  had  been  long  a  matter 
of  great  curiosity  to  her,  Margaret  answered  by 
looking  at  her  sister,  and  saying,  ^^I  must  not 
tell,  may  I,  Elinor?  " 

This  of  course  made  everybody  laugh,  and  Eli- 
nor tried  to  laugh  too.  But  the  effort  was  pain- 
ful. She  was  convinced  that  Margaret  had  fixed 
on  a  person  vrhose  name  she  could  not  bear  with 
composure  to  become  a  standing  joke  with  Mrs. 
Jennings. 

Marianne  felt  for  her  most  sincerely;  but  she 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


91 


did  more  harm  than  good  to  the  cause,  by  turning 
very  red,  and  saj^ing  in  an  angry  manner  to 
Margaret,  — 

Remember  that  whatever  your  conjectures  may 
be,  you  have  no  right  to  repeat  them." 

^^I  never  had  any  conjectures  about  it,"  re- 
plied Margaret;  "it  was  you  who  told  me  of  it 
yourself." 

This  increased  the  mirth  of  the  company,  and 
Margaret  was  eagerly  pressed  to  say  something 
more. 

^^Oh,  pray,  Miss  Margaret,  let  us  know  all 
about  it,"  said  Mrs.  Jennings.  ^^What  is  the 
gentleman's  name?  " 

^^I  must  not  tell,  ma'am.  But  I  know  very 
well  what  it  is;  and  I  know  where  he  is  too." 

^^Yes,  yes,  we  can  guess  where  he  is;  at  his 
own  house  at  Norland,  to  be  sure.  He  is  the 
curate  of  the  parish,  I  dare  say." 

^^No,  that  he  is  not.  He  is  of  no  profession  at 
all." 

Margaret,"  said  Marianne,  with  great  warmth, 
^^you  know  that  all  this  is  an  invention  of  your 
own,  and  that  there  is  no  such  person  in  existence." 

Well,  then,  he  is  lately  dead,  Marianne,  for  I 
am  sure  there  was  such  a  man  once,  and  his  name 
begins  with  an  F." 

Most  grateful  did  Elinor  feel  to  Lady  Middle- 
ton  for  observing,  at  this  moment,  that     it  rained 


92 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


very  hard,"  though  she  believed  the  interruption 
to  proceed  less  from  any  attention  to  her  than 
from  her  ladyship's  great  dislike  of  all  such  inele- 
gant subjects  of  raillery  as  delighted  her  husband 
and  mother.  The  idea,  however,  started  by  her, 
was  immediately  pursued  by  Colonel  Brandon,  who 
was  on  every  occasion  mindful  of  the  feelings  of 
others;  and  much  was  said  on  the  subject  of  rain 
by  both  of  them.  Willoughby  opened  the  piano- 
forte, and  asked  Marianne  to  sit  down  to  it;  and 
thus,  amidst  the  various  endeavors  of  different 
people  to  quit  the  topic,  it  fell  to  the  ground.  But 
not  so  easily  did  Elinor  recover  from  the  alarm 
into  which  it  had  thrown  her. 

A  party  was  formed  this  evening  for  going  on 
the  following  day  to  see  a  very  fine  place  about 
twelve  miles  from  Barton,  belonging  to  a  brother- 
in-law  of  Colonel  Brandon,  without  whose  interest 
it  could  not  be  seen,  as  the  proprietor,  who  was 
then  abroad,  had  left  strict  orders  on  that  head. 
The  grounds  were  declared  to  be  highly  beautiful; 
and  Sir  John,  who  was  particularly  warm  in  their 
praise,  might  be  allowed  to  be  a  tolerable  judge, 
for  he  had  formed  parties  to  visit  them  at  least 
twice  every  summer  for  the  last  ten  years.  They 
contained  a  noble  piece  of  water,  —  a  sail  on  which 
was  to  form  a  great  part  of  the  morning's  amuse- 
ment; cold  provisions  were  to  be  taken,  open 
carriages  only  to  be  employed,  and  everything 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


93 


conducted  in  the  usual  style  of  a  complete  party 
of  pleasure. 

To  some  few  of  the  company  it  appeared  rather 
a  bold  undertaking,  considering  the  time  of  year, 
and  that  it  had  rained  every  day  for  the  last  fort- 
night; and  Mrs.  Dashwood,  who  had  already  a 
cold,  was  persuaded  by  Elinor  to  stay  at  home. 


CHAPTEE  XIII. 


Their  intended  excursion  to  Whitwell  turned  out 
very  differently  from  what  Elinor  had  expected. 
She  was  prepared  to  be  wet  through,  fatigued,  and 
frightened;  but  the  event  was  still  more  unfortu- 
nate, for  they  did  not  go  at  all. 

By  ten  o'clock  the  whole  party  were  assembled 
at  the  Park,  where  they  were  to  breakfast.  The 
morning  was  rather  favorable,  though  it  had  rained 
all  night,  as  the  clouds  were  then  dispersing  across 
the  sky,  and  the  sun  frequently  appeared.  They 
were  all  in  high  spirits  and  good  humor,  eager  to 
be  happy,  and  determined  to  submit  to  the  great- 
est inconveniences  and  hardships  rather  than  be 
otherwise. 

While  they  were  at  breakfast  the  letters  were 
brought  in.  Among  the  rest  there  was  one  for 
Colonel  Brandon.  He  took  it,  looked  at  the  di- 
rection, changed  color,  and  immediately  left  the 
room. 

What  is  the  matter  with  Brandon?  said  Sir 
John. 

Nobody  could  tell. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


95 


^^I  hope  lie  has  had  no  bad  news/'  said  Lady 
Middleton.  It  must  he  something  extraordinary 
that  could  make  Colonel  Brandon  leave  my  break- 
fast-table so  suddenly/' 

In  about  five  minutes  he  returned. 

^^No  bad  news,  Colonel,  I  hope?''  said  MrSo 
Jennings,  as  soon  as  he  entered  the  room. 

^^None  at  all,  ma'am,  I  thank  you." 
Was  it  from  Avignon?    I  hope  it  is  not  to  say 
that  your  sister  is  worse?  " 

"  No,  ma'am.  It  came  from  town,  and  is  merely 
a  letter  of  business." 

^'But  how  came  the  hand  to  discompose  you  so 
much,  if  it  was  only  a  letter  of  business?  Come, 
come,  this  won't  do.  Colonel;  so  let  us  hear  the 
truth  of  it." 

My  dear  madam,"  said  Lady  Middleton,  rec- 
ollect what  you  are  saying." 

Perhaps  it  is  to  tell  you  that  your  cousin 
Fanny  is  married?  "  said  Mrs.  Jennings,  with- 
out attending  to  her  daughter's  reproof. 

"l^Oj  indeed,  it  is  not." 
Well,  then,  I  know  whom  it  is  from.  Colonel. 
And  I  hope  she  is  well." 

"  Whom  do  you  mean,  ma'am?  "  said  he,  color- 
ing a  little. 

^^Oh!  you  know  who  I  mean." 

"  I  am  particularly  sorry,  ma'am,"  said  he, 
addressing  Lady  Middleton,  ^^that  I  should  re- 


96 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


ceive  this  letter  to-daj,  for  it  is  on  business  which 
requires  my  immediate  attendance  in  town.'^ 

In  town!  cried  Mrs.  Jennings.  ^^What  can 
you  have  to  do  in  town  at  this  tim^e  of  year? 

My  own  loss  is  great/'  he  continued,  ^^in 
being  obliged  to  leave  so  agreeable  a  party;  but  I 
am  the  more  concerned  as  I  fear  my  presence  is 
necessary  to  gain  your  admittance  at  Whitwell  .'^ 

What  a  blow  upon  them  all  was  this ! 

^^But  if  you  write  a  note  to  the  housekeeper, 
Mr.  Brandon/'  said  Marianne,  eagerly,  ^Svill  it 
not  be  sufficient?  " 

He  shook  his  head. 

We  must  go,"  said  Sir  John.  ^^It  shall  not 
be  put  off  when  we  are  so  near  it.  You  cannot  go 
to  town  till  to-morrow,  Brandon,  that  is  all." 

^^I  wish  it  could  be  so  easily  settled;  but  it 
is  not  in  my  power  to  delay  my  journey  for  one 
day!  " 

^^If  you  would  but  let  us  know  what  your 
business  is,"  said  Mrs.  Jennings,  ^^we  might  see 
whether  it  could  be  put  off  or  not." 

You  would  not  be  six  hours  later,"  said  Wil- 
loughby,  ^^if  you  were  to  defer  your  journey  till 
our  return." 

'^I  cannot  afford  to  lose  one  hour." 

Elinor  then  heard  Willoughby  say,  in  a  low 
voice,  to  Marianne:  There  are  some  people  who 
cannot  bear  a  party  of  pleasure.    Brandon  is  one 


SENSE  AWD  SENSIBILITY. 


97 


of  them.  He  was  afraid  of  catching  cold,  I  dare 
say,  and  invented  this  trick  for  getting  out  of  it, 
I  would  lay  fifty  guineas  the  letter  was  of  his  own 
writing.'^ 

I  have  no  doubt  of  it/'  replied  Marianne. 

There  is  no  persuading  you  to  change  your 
mind,  Brandon,  I  know  of  old,''  said  Sir  John, 
when  once  you  are  determined  on  anything. 
But,  however,  I  hope  you  will  think  better  of  it. 
Consider,  —  here  are  the  two  Miss  Careys  come 
over  from  Newton,  the  three  Miss  Dashwoods 
walked  up  from  the  cottage,  and  Mr.  Willoughby 
got  up  two  hours  before  his  usual  time,  on  pur- 
pose to  go  to  Whitwell." 

Colonel  Brandon  again  repeated  his  sorrow  at 
being  the  cause  of  disappointing  the  party,  but 
at  the  same  time  declared  it  to  be  unavoidable. 

Well,  then,  when  will  you  come  back  again?" 

I  hope  we  shall  see  you  at  Barton,"  added  her 
ladyship,  ' '  as  soon  as  you  can  conveniently  leave 
town ;  and  we  must  put  off  the  party  to  Whitwell 
till  you  return." 

"  You  are  very  obliging;  but  it  is  so  uncertain 
when  I  may  have  it  in  my  power  to  return,  that  I 
dare  not  engage  for  it  at  all." 

^^Oh!  he  must  and  shall  come  back,"  cried  Sir 
John.  "  If  he  is  not  here  by  the  end  of  the  week, 
I  shall  go  after  him." 

^^Ay,  so  do.  Sir  John,"  cried  Mrs.  Jennings, 

VOL.  I.  —  7 


98 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


^^and  then  perhaps  you  may  find  out  what  his 
business  is/' 

^^I  do  not  want  to  pry  into  other  men's  concerns. 
I  suppose  it  is  something  he  is  ashamed  of." 

Colonel  Brandon's  horses  were  announced. 
You  do  not  go  to  town  on  horseback,  do  you?" 
added  Sir  John. 

"  No.    Only  to  Honiton.    I  shall  then  go  post." 
Well,  as  you  are  resolved  to  go,  I  wish  you  a 
good  journey;   but  you  had  better  change  your 
mind." 

I  assure  you  it  is  not  in  my  power." 
He  then  took  leave  of  the  whole  party. 
"  Is  there  no  chance  of  my  seeing  you  and  your 
sisters  in  town  this  winter,  Miss  Dashwood?  " 
"  I  am  afraid  none  at  all." 

^^Then  I  must  bid  you  farewell  for  a  longer 
time  than  I  should  wish  to  do." 

To  Marianne  he  merely  bowed  and  said  nothing. 

^^Come,  Colonel,"  said  Mrs.  Jennings,  before 
you  go  do  let  us  know  what  you  are  going  about." 

He  wished  her  a  good-morning,  and,  attended 
by  Sir  John,  left  the  room. 

The  complaints  and  lamentations  which  polite- 
ness had  hitherto  restrained,  now  burst  forth  uni- 
versally; and  they  all  agreed  again  and  again  how 
provoking  it  was  to  be  so  disappointed. 

^^I  can  guess  what  his  business  is,  however," 
said  Mrs.  Jennings,  exultingly. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


99 


Can  you,  ma'am?     said  almost  everybody. 
Yes;  it  is  about  Miss  Williams,  I  am  sure.'' 
"  And  who  is  Miss  Williams?  "   asked  Mari- 
anne. 

"  What!  do  not  you  know  who  Miss  Williams 
is?  I  am  sure  you  must  have  heard  of  her  before. 
She  is  a  relation  of  the  Colonel's,  my  dear;  a  very 
near  relation.  We  will  not  say  how  near,  for  fear 
of  shocking  the  young  ladies."  Then  lowering 
her  voice  a  little,  she  said  to  Elinor,  "  She  is  his 
natural  daughter." 

^andeed!  " 

^^Oh,  yes;  and  as  like  him  as  she  can  stare. 
I  dare  say  the  Colonel  will  leave  her  all  his 
fortune." 

When  Sir  John  returned,  he  joined  most  heartily 
in  the  general  regret  on  so  unfortunate  an  event; 
concluding,  however,  by  observing  that  as  they 
were  all  got  together,  they  must  do  something  by 
way  of  being  happy;  and  after  some  consultation 
it  was  agreed  that  although  happiness  could  only 
be  enjoyed  at  Whit  well,  they  might  procure  a  tol- 
erable composure  of  mind  by  driving  about  the 
country.  The  carriages  were  then  ordered.  Wil- 
loughby's  was  first,  and  Marianne  never  looked 
happier  than  when  she  got  into  it.  He  drove 
through  the  park  very  fast,  and  they  were  soon 
out  of  sight;  and  nothing  more  of  them  was  seen 
till  their  return,  which  did  not  happen  till  after 


100 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


the  return  of  all  the  rest.  They  both  seemed  de- 
lighted with  their  drive;  but  said  only  in  general 
terms  that  they  had  kept  in  the  lanes^  while  the 
others  went  on  the  downs. 

It  was  settled  that  there  should  be  a  dance  in 
the  evening,  and  that  everybody  should  be  ex- 
tremely merry  all  day  long.  Some  more  of  the 
Careys  came  to  dinner;  and  they  had  the  pleasure 
of  sitting  down  nearly  twenty  to  table,  which  Sir 
John  observed  with  great  contentment.  Wil- 
loughby  took  his  usual  place  between  the  two 
elder  Miss  Dashwoods.  Mrs.  Jennings  sat  on 
Elinor's  right  hand;  and  they  had  not  been  long 
seated,  before  she  leaned  behind  her  and  Wil- 
loughby,  and  said  to  Marianne,  loud  enough  for 
them  both  to  hear:  I  have  found  you  out  in  spite 
of  all  your  tricks.  I  know  where  you  spent  the 
morning." 

Marianne   colored,   and   replied   very  hastily, 

Where,  pray?" 

Did  not  you  know,"  said  Willoughby,  ^^that 
we  had  been  out  in  my  curricle?  " 

^^Yes,  yes,  Mr.  Impudence,  I  know  that  very 
well,  and  I  was  determined  to  find  out  where  you 
had  been  to.  I  hope  you  like  your  house,  Miss 
Marianne.  It  is  a  very  large  one,  I  know;  and 
when  I  come  to  see  you,  I  hope  you  will  have  new^- 
furnished  it,  for  it  wanted  it  very  much  when  I 
was  there  six  years  ago." 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


101 


Marianne  turned  away  in  great  confusion.  Mrs. 
Jennings  laughed  heartily;  and  Elinor  found  that 
in  her  resolution  to  know  where  they  had  been,  she 
had  actually  made  her  own  woman  inquire  of  Mr. 
Willoughby's  groom,  and  that  she  had  by  that 
method  been  informed  that  they  had  gone  to  Allen- 
ham,  and  spent  a  considerable  time  there  in  walking 
about  the  garden  and  going  all  over  the  house. 

Elinor  could  hardly  believe  this  to  be  true;  as 
it  seemed  very  unlikely  that  Willoughby  should 
propose,  or  Marianne  consent,  to  enter  the  house 
while  Mrs.  Smith  was  in  it,  with  whom  Mari- 
anne had  not  the  smallest  acquaintance. 

As  soon  as  they  left  the  dining-room,  Elinor  in- 
quired of  her  about  it;  and  great  was  her  surprise 
when  she  found  that  every  circumstance  related  by 
Mrs.  Jennings  was  perfectly  true.  Marianne  was 
quite  angry  with  her  for  doubting  it. 

<^  Why  should  you  imagine,  Elinor,  that  we  did 
not  go  there,  or  that  we  did  not  see  the  house?  Is 
not  it  what  you  have  often  wished  to  do  yourself?" 

Yes,  Marianne;  but  I  would  not  go  while  Mrs. 
Smith  was  there,  and  with  no  other  companion 
than  Mr.  Willoughby.'^ 

^^Mr.  Willoughby,  however,  is  the  only  person 
who  can  have  a  right  to  show  that  house;  and  as 
he  went  in  an  open  carriage,  it  was  impossible  to 
have  any  other  companion.  I  never  spent  a  pleas- 
anter  morning  in  my  life." 


102 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


I  am  afraid/'  replied  Elinor,  "  that  the  pleas- 
antness of  an  employment  does  not  always  evince 
its  propriety." 

"  On  the  contrary,  nothing  can  be  a  stronger 
proof  of  it,  Elinor;  for  if  there  had  been  an^^  real 
impropriety  in  what  I  did,  I  should  have  been 
sensible  of  it  at  the  time,  for  we  always  know 
when  we  are  acting  wrong,  and  with  such  a  con- 
viction I  could  have  had  no  pleasure.'' 

"  But,  my  dear  Marianne,  as  it  has  already  ex- 
posed you  to  some  very  impertinent  remarks,  do 
you  not  now  begin  to  doubt  the  discretion  of  your 
own  conduct?  " 

^^If  the  impertinent  remarks  of  Mrs.  Jennings 
are  to  be  the  proof  of  impropriety  in  conduct,  we 
are  all  offending  every  moment  of  our  lives.  I 
value  not  her  censure  any  more  than  I  should  do 
her  commendation.  I  am  not  sensible  of  having 
done  anything  wrong  in  walking  over  Mrs.  Smith's 
grounds  or  in  seeing  her  house.  They  will  one 
day  be  Mr.  Willoughby's,  and — " 

^^If  they  were  one  day  to  be  your  own,  Mari- 
anne, you  would  not  be  justified  in  what  you  have 
done." 

She  blushed  at  this  hint ;  but  it  was  even  visibly 
gratifying  to  her;  and  after  a  ten  minutes'  inter- 
val of  earnest  thought,  she  came  to  her  sister 
again,  and  said  with  great  good  humor:  Perhaps, 
Elinor,  it  was  rather  ill-judged  in  me  to  go  to 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


103 


Allenham;  but  Mr.  Willoughby  wanted  particu- 
larly to  sliow  me  the  place;  and  it  is  a  charming 
house,  I  assure  you.  There  is  one  remarkably 
pretty  sitting-room  upstairs,  of  a  nice  comfortable 
size  for  constant  use,  and  with  modern  furniture 
it  would  be  delightful.  It  is  a  corner  room,  and 
has  windows  on  two  sides.  On  one  side  you  look 
across  the  bowling-green,  behind  the  house,  to  a 
beautiful  hanging  wood,  and  on  the  other  you  have 
a  view  of  the  church  and  village,  and,  beyond 
them,  of  those  fine,  bold  hills  that  we  have  so  often 
admired.  I  did  not  see  it  to  advantage,  for  noth- 
ing could  be  more  forlorn  than  the  furniture; 
but  if  it  were  newly  fitted  up,  —  a  couple  of  hun- 
dred pounds,  Willoughby  says,  would  make  it  one 
of  the  pleasantest  summer-rooms  in  England." 

Could  Elinor  have  listened  to  her  without  inter- 
ruption from  the  others,  she  would  have  described 
every  room  in  the  house  with  equal  debght. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


The  sudden  termination  of  Colonel  Brandon's 
visit  at  the  Park,  with  his  steadiness  in  conceal- 
ing its  cause,  filled  the  mind,  and  raised  the  won- 
der, of  Mrs.  Jennings  for  two  or  three  days:  she 
was  a  great  wonderer,  as  every  one  must  be  who 
takes  a  very  lively  interest  in  all  the  comings  and 
goings  of  all  their  acquaintance.  She  wondered, 
with  little  intermission,  what  could  be  the  reason 
of  it;  was  sure  there  must  be  some  bad  news,  and 
thought  over  every  kind  of  distress  that  could 
have  befallen  him,  with  a  fixed  determination  that 
he  should  not  escape  them  all. 

Something  very  melancholy  must  be  the  mat- 
ter, I  am  sure, said  she.  "  I  could  see  it  in  his 
face.  Poor  man!  I  am  afraid  his  circumstances 
may  be  bad.  The  estate  at  Delaford  was  never 
reckoned  more  than  two  thousand  a  year,  and  his 
brother  left  everything  sadly  involved.  I  do 
think  he  must  have  been  sent  for  about  money 
matters,  for  what  else  can  it  be?  I  wonder 
whether  it  is  so.  I  would  give  anything  to  know 
the  truth  of  it.  Perhaps  it  is  about  Miss  Williams 
—  and,  by  the  by,  I  dare  say  it  is,  because  he 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


105 


looked  so  conscious  when  I  mentioned  her.  Maybe 
she  is  ill  in  town;  nothing  in  the  world  more 
likely,  for  I  have  a  notion  she  is  always  rather 
sickly.  I  w^ould  lay  any  wager  it  is  about  Miss 
Williams.  It  is  not  so  very  likely  he  should  be 
distressed  in  his  circumstances  71010,  for  he  is  a 
very  prudent  man,  and  to  be  sure  must  have 
cleared  the  estate  by  this  time.  I  wonder  what  it 
can  be!  Maybe  his  sister  is  worse  at  Avignon^ 
and  has  sent  for  him  over.  His  setting  off  in 
such  a  hurry  seems  very  like  it.  Well,  I  wish 
him  out  of  all  his  trouble,  with  all  my  heart,  and 
a  good  wife  into  the  bargain.'' 

So  wondered,  so  talked  Mrs.  Jennings;  her 
opinion  varying  Avith  every  fresh  conjecture,  and 
all  seeming  equally  probable  as  they  arose.  Elinor, 
though  she  felt  really  interested  in  the  welfare  of 
Colonel  Brandon,  could  not  bestow  all  the  wonder 
on  his  going  so  suddenly  away  which  Mrs.  Jen- 
nings was  desirous  of  her  feeling;  for  besides  that 
the  circumstance  did  not,  in  her  opinion,  justify 
such  lasting  amazement  or  variety  of  speculation, 
her  wonder  was  otherwise  disposed  of.  It  was 
engrossed  by  the  extraordinary  silence  of  her 
sister  and  Willoughby  on  the  subject  which  they 
must  know  to  be  peculiarly  interesting  to  them 
all.  As  this  silence  continued,  every  day  made  it 
appear  more  strange  and  more  incompatible  with 
the  disposition  of  both.    Why  they  should  not 


106 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


openly  acknowledge  to  her  mother  and  herself 
what  their  constant  behavior  to  each  other  declared 
to  have  taken  place,  Elinor  could  not  imagine. 

She  could  easily  conceive  that  marriage  might 
not  be  immediately  in  their  power;  for  though 
Willoughby  was  independent,  there  was  no  reason 
to  believe  him  rich.  His  estate  had  been  rated 
by  Sir  John  at  about  six  or  seven  hundred  a  year; 
but  he  lived  at  an  expense  to  which  that  income 
could  hardly  be  equal,  and  he  had  himself  often 
complained  of  his  poverty.  But  for  this  strange 
kind  of  secrecy,  maintained  by  them  relative  to 
their  engagement,  which  in  fact  concealed  nothing 
at  all,  she  could  not  account ;  and  it  was  so  wholly 
contradictory  to  their  general  opinions  and  prac- 
tice that  a  doubt  sometimes  entered  her  mind  of 
their  being  really  engaged,  and  this  doubt  was 
enough  to  prevent  her  making  any  inquiry  of 
Marianne. 

Nothing  could  be  more  expressive  of  attachment 
to  them  all  than  Willoughby 's  behavior.  To 
Marianne  it  had  all  the  distinguishing  tenderness 
which  a  lover's  heart  could  give,  and  to  the  rest  of 
the  family  it  was  the  affectionate  attention  of  a 
son  and  a  brother.  The  cottage  seemed  to  be  con- 
sidered and  loved  by  him  as  his  home ;  many  more 
of  his  hours  were  spent  there  than  at  Allenham; 
and  if  no  general  engagement  collected  them  at 
the  Park,  the  exercise  which  called  him  out  in  the 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY.  107 


morning  was  almost  certain  of  ending  there,  where 
the  rest  of  the  clay  was  spent  by  himself  at  the 
side  of  Marianne,  and  by  his  favorite  pointer  at 
her  feet. 

One  evening  in  particular,  about  a  week  after 
Colonel  Brandon  had  left  the  country,  his  heart 
seemed  more  than  usually  open  to  every  feeling  of 
attachment  to  the  objects  around  him;  and  on  Mrs. 
Dashwood's  happening  to  mention  her  design  of 
improving  the  cottage  in  the  spring,  he  warmly 
opposed  every  alteration  of  a  place  which  affection 
had  established  as  perfect  with  him. 

^^What!''  he  exclaimed,  improve  this  dear 
cottage!  No.  That  I  will  never  consent  to. 
Not  a  stone  must  be  added  to  its  walls,  not  an 
inch  to  its  size,  if  my  feelings  are  regarded." 

^^Do  not  be  alarmed,"  said  Miss  Dashwood, 

nothing  of  the  kind  will  be  done;  for  my  mother 
will  never  have  money  enough  to  attempt  it." 

^^I  am  heartily  glad  of  it,"  he  cried.  ^^May 
she  always  be  poor,  if  she  can  employ  her  riches 
no  better." 

Thank  you,  Willoughby.  But  you  may  be 
assured  that  I  would  not  sacrifice  one  sentiment 
of  local  attachment  of  yours,  or  of  any  one  whom 
I  loved,  for  all  the  improvements  in  the  world. 
Depend  upon  it,  that  whatever  unemployed  sum 
may  remain,  when  I  make  up  my  accounts  in  the 
spring,  I  would  even  rather  lay  it  uselessly  by 


108 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY, 


than  dispose  of  it  in  a  manner  so  painful  to  you. 
But  are  you  really  so  attached  to  this  place  as  to 
see  no  defect  in  it?  ^' 

^^I  am/'  said  he.  ^^To  me  it  is  faultless. 
Nay,  more,  I  consider  it  as  the  only  form  of  build- 
ing in  which  happiness  is  attainable;  and  were  I 
rich  enough  I  w^ould  instantly  pull  Combe  down, 
and  build  it  up  again  in  the  exact  plan  of  this 
cottage." 

^^With  dark  narrow  stairs,  and  a  kitchen  that 
smokes,  I  suppose,"  said  Elinor. 

^^Yes, "  cried  he,  in  the  same  eager  tone,  ^^with 
all  and  everything  belonging  to  it,  —  in  no  one 
convenience  or  inconvenience  about  it  should  the 
least  variation  be  perceptible.  Then  and  then 
only,  under  such  a  roof,  I  might  perhaps  be  as 
happy  at  Combe  as  I  have  been  at  Barton." 

I  flatter  myself, "  replied  Elinor,  ^^that  even 
under  the  disadvantage  of  better  rooms  and  a 
broader  staircase,  you  will  hereafter  find  your  own 
house  as  faultless  as  you  now  do  this." 

"  There  certainly  are  circumstances,"  said  Wil- 
loughby,  which  might  greatly  endear  it  to  me; 
but  this  place  will  always  have  one  claim  on  my 
affection,  which  no  other  can  possibly  share." 

Mrs.  Dashwood  looked  with  pleasure  at  Mari- 
anne, whose  fine  eyes  were  fixed  so  expressively 
on  Willoughby  as  plainly  denoted  how  well  she 
understood  him. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


109 


^^How  often  did  I  wish/'  added  lie,  ^Svlien  I 
was  at  Allenham,  this  time  twelvemonth,  that 
Barton  Cottage  were  inhabited!  I  never  passed 
within  view  of  it  without  admiring  its  situation, 
and  grieving  that  no  one  should  live  in  it.  How 
little  did  I  then  think  that  the  very  first  news  I 
should  hear  from  Mrs.  Smith,  when  I  next  came 
into  the  country,  would  be  that  Barton  Cottage 
was  taken;  and  I  felt  an  immediate  satisfaction 
and  interest  in  the  event,  which  nothing  but  a 
kind  of  prescience  of  what  happiness  I  should 
experience  from  it  can  account  for.  Must  it  not 
have  been  so,  Marianne?  speaking  to  her  in  a 
lowered  voice.  Then  continuing  his  former  tone, 
he  said:  ^^And  yet  this  house  you  would  spoil, 
Mrs.  Dashwood?  You  would  rob  it  of  its  sim- 
plicity by  imaginary  improvement !  and  this  dear 
parlor  in  which  our  acquaintance  first  began,  and 
in  which  so  many  happy  hours  have  been  since 
spent  by  us  together,  you  would  degrade  to  the 
condition  of  a  common  entrance,  and  everybody 
would  be  eager  to  pass  through  the  room  which 
has  hitherto  contained  within  itself  more  real  ac- 
commodation and  comfort  than  any  other  apart- 
ment of  the  handsomest  dimensions  in  the  world 
could  possibly  afford.'' 

Mrs.  Dashwood  again  assured  him  that  no  al- 
teration of  the  kind  should  be  attempted. 

You  are  a  good  woman,''  he  warmly  replied. 


110 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


Your  promise  makes  me  easy.  Extend  it  a  little 
further^  and  it  vvill  make  me  happy.  Tell  me  that 
not  only  your  house  will  remain  the  same,  but 
that  I  shall  ever  find  you  and  yours  as  unchanged 
as  your  dwelling;  and  that  you  will  always  con- 
sider me  with  the  kindness  which  has  made  every- 
thing belonging  to  you  so  dear  to  me.'' 

The  promise  was  readily  given,  and  Wil- 
loughby's  behavior  during  the  whole  of  the  even- 
ing declared  at  once  his  affection  and  happiness. 

"  Shall  we  see  you  to-morrow  to  dinner?  "  said 
Mrs.  Dashwood,  when  he  was  leaving  them.  I  do 
not  ask  you  to  come  in  the  morning,  for  we  must 
walk  to  the  Park,  to  call  on  Lady  Middleton." 

He  engaged  to  be  with  them  by  four  o'clock. 


CHAPTEE  XV. 


Mrs.  Dashwood's  visit  to  Lady  Middleton  took 
place  the  next  day,  and  two  of  her  daughters  went 
with  her ;  but  Marianne  excused  herself  from  being 
of  the  party,  under  some  trifling  pretext  of  em- 
ployment; and  her  mother,  who  concluded  that  a 
promise  had  been  made  by  Willoughby  the  night 
before  of  calling  on  her  while  they  were  absent, 
was  perfectly  satisfied  with  her  remaining  at 
home. 

On  their  return  from  the  Park,  they  found  Wil- 
loughby's  curricle  and  servant  in  waiting  at  the 
cottage,  and  Mrs.  Dash  wood  was  convinced  that 
her  conjecture  had  been  just.  So  far  it  was  all  as 
she  had  foreseen;  but  on  entering  the  house  she 
beheld  what  no  foresight  had  taught  her  to  expect. 
They  were  no  sooner  in  the  passage  than  Marianne 
came  hastily  out  of  the  parlor  apparently  in  vio- 
lent affliction,  with  her  handkerchief  at  her  eyes, 
and,  without  noticing  them,  ran  upstairs.  Sur- 
prised and  alarmed,  they  proceeded  directly  into 
the  room  she  had  just  quitted,  where  they  found 
only  Willoughby,  who  was  leaning  against  the 
mantelpiece  with  his  back  towards  them.  He 


112 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


turned  round  on  their  coming  in,  and  his  coun- 
tenance showed  that  he  strongly  partook  of  the 
emotion  which  overpowered  Marianne. 

^^Is  anything  the  matter  with  her?"  cried  Mrs. 
Dashwood,  as  she  entered,  —  ^^is  she  ill?  " 

^^I  hope  not/'  he  replied,  trying  to  look  cheer- 
ful; and  with  a  forced  smile  presently  added,  "  It 
is  I  who  may  rather  expect  to  be  ill,  —  for  I  am  now 
suffering  under  a  very  heavy  disappointment! 

^^Disappointment!  " 
Yes,  for  I  am  unable  to  keep  my  engagement 
with  you.  Mrs.  Smith  has  this  morning  exercised 
the  privilege  of  riches  upon  a  poor  dependent 
cousin,  by  sending  me  on  business  to  London.  I 
have  just  received  my  despatches,  and  taken  my 
farewell  of  Allenham;  and  by  way  of  exhilaration 
I  am  now  come  to  take  my  farewell  of  you." 

^^To  London!  —  and  are  you  going  this  morn- 
ing?" 

Almost  this  moment." 

^^This  is  very  unfortunate.  But  Mrs.  Smith 
must  be  obliged,  and  her  business  wull  not  detain 
you  from  us  long,  I  hope  ? ' ' 

He  colored  as  he  replied:  You  are  very  kind; 
but  I  have  no  idea  of  returning  into  Devonshire 
immediately.  My  visits  to  Mrs.  Smith  are  never 
repeated  within  the  twelvemonth." 

^^And  is  Mrs.  Smith  your  only  friend?  Is 
Allenham  the  only  house  in  the  neighborhood  to 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


113 


which  you  will  be  welcome?  For  shame,  Wil- 
loughby;  can  you  wait  for  an  invitation  here?  " 

His  color  increased;  and,  with  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  ground,  he  only  replied,  ^^You  are  too 
good.'^ 

Mrs.  Dasliwood  looked  at  Elinor  with  surprise. 
Elinor  felt  equal  amazement.  Eor  a  few  moments 
every  one  was  silent.    Mrs.  Dashwood  first  spoke. 

I  have  only  to  add,  my  dear  Willoughhy,  that 
at  Barton  Cottage  you  will  always  be  welcome; 
for  I  will  not  press  you  to  return  here  immedi- 
ately, because  you  only  can  judge  how  far  that 
might  be  pleasing  to  Mrs.  Smith;  and  on  this 
head  I  shall  be  no  more  disposed  to  question  your 
judgment  than  to  doubt  your  inclination.'^ 

^^My  engagements  at  present,"  replied  Wil- 
loughhy, confusedly,  ^^are  of  such  a  nature  — 
that  —  I  dare  not  flatter  myself  —  " 

He  stopped.  Mrs.  Dashwood  was  too  much 
astonished  to  speak,  and  another  pause  succeeded. 
This  was  broken  by  Willoughhy,  who  said,  with  a 
faint  smile:  It  is  folly  to  linger  in  this  manner. 
I  will  not  torment  myself  any  longer  by  remaining 
among  friends  whose  society  it  is  impossible  for 
me  now  to  enjoy.'' 

He  then  hastily  took  leave  of  them  all,  and  left 
the  room.  They  saw  him  step  into  his  carriage, 
and  in  a  minute  it  was  out  of  sight. 

Mrs.  Dashwood  felt  too  much  for  speech,  and 

VOL.  I.  —  8 


114  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


instantly  quitted  the  parlor  to  give  way  in  solitude 
to  the  concern  and  alarm  which  this  sudden  depar- 
ture occasioned. 

Elinor's  uneasiness  was  at  least  equal  to  her 
mother's.  She  thought  of  what  had  just  passed 
with  anxiety  and  distrust.  Willoughhy's  behav- 
ior in  taking  leave  of  them,  his  embarrassment, 
and  affectation  of  cheerfulness,  and,  above  all,  his 
unwillingness  to  accept  her  mother's  invitation  — 
a  backwardness  so  unlike  a  lover,  so  unlike  him- 
self —  greatly  disturbed  her.  One  moment  she 
feared  that  no  serious  design  had  ever  been  formed 
on  his  side,  and  the  next  that  some  unfortunate 
quarrel  had  taken  place  between  him  and  her 
sister.  The  distress  in  which  Marianne  had 
quitted  the  room  was  such  as  a  serious  quarrel 
could  most  reasonably  account  for,  though,  when 
she  considered  what  Marianne's  love  for  him  was, 
a  quarrel  seemed  almost  impossible. 

But  whatever  might  be  the  particulars  of  their 
separation,  her  sister's  affliction  was  indubitable; 
and  she  thought  with  the  tenderest  compassion  of 
that  violent  sorrow  which  Marianne  was  in  all 
probability  not  merely  giving  way  to  as  a  relief, 
but  feeding  and  encouraging  as  a  duty. 

In  about  half  an  hour  her  mother  returned,  and 
though  her  eyes  were  red,  her  countenance  was  not 
uncheerful. 

^^Our  dear  Willoughby  is  now  some  miles  from 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY.  115 

Barton,  Elinor/'  said  she,  as  she  sat  down  to  work; 
"  and  with  how  heavy  a  heart  does  he  travel!  " 

^^It  is  all  very  strange.  So  suddenly  to  be 
gone !  It  seems  but  the  work  of  a  moment.  And 
last  night  he  was  with  us  so  happy,  so  cheerful,  so 
affectionate!  And  now,  after  only  ten  minutes' 
notice,  — gone,  too,  without  intending  to  return! 
Something  more  than  what  he  owned  to  us  must 
have  happened.  He  did  not  speak,  he  did  not  be- 
have like  himself.  You  must  have  seen  the  dif- 
ference as  well  as  I.  What  can  it  be?  Can  they 
have  quarrelled?  Why  else  should  he  have  shown 
such  unwillingness  to  accept  your  invitation 
here?  " 

^^It  was  not  inclination  that  he  wanted,  Elinor; 
I  could  plainly  see  that.  He  had  not  the  power  of 
accepting  it.  I  have  thought  it  all  over,  I  assure 
you,  and  I  can  perfectly  account  for  everything 
that  at  first  seemed  strange  to  me  as  well  as  to 
you.'' 

"  Can  you,  indeed?  " 

^^Yes.  I  have  explained  it  to  myself  in  the 
most  satisfactory  way;  but  you,  Elinor,  who  love 
to  doubt  where  you  can,  —  it  will  not  satisfy  you, 
I  know;  but  you  shall  not  talk  me  out  of  my  trust 
in  it.  I  am  persuaded  that  Mrs.  Smith  suspects 
his  regard  for  Marianne,  disapproves  of  it  (perhaps 
because  she  has  other  views  for  him),  and  on  that 
•  account  is  eager  to  get  him  away;  and  that  the 


116 


SE^s^SE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


business  which  she  sends  him  off  to  transact  is 
invented  as  an  excuse  to  dismiss  him.  This  is 
what  I  believe  to  have  happened.  He  is,  more- 
over, aware  that  she  does  disapprove  the  con- 
nection; he  dares  not  therefore  at  present  confess 
to  her  his  engagement  with  Marianne,  and  he  feels 
himself  obliged,  from  his  depender+t  situation,  to 
give  in  to  her  schemes,  and  absent  himself  from 
Devonshire  for  a  while.  You  will  tell  me,  I 
know,  that  this  may  or  may  not  have  happened; 
but  I  will  listen  to  no  cavil,  unless  you  can  point 
out  any  other  method  of  understanding  the  affair 
as  satisfactory  as  this.  And  now,  Elinor,  what 
have  you  to  say?" 

"  Nothing,  for  you  have  anticipated  my  answer." 

"  Then  you  would  have  told  me  that  it  might 
or  might  not  have  happened.  Oh,  Elinor,  how 
incomprehensible  are  your  feelings!  You  had 
rather  take  evil  upon  credit  than  good.  You  had 
rather  look  out  for  misery  for  Marianne,  and  guilt 
for  poor  Willoughby,  than  an  apology  for  the 
latter.  You  are  resolved  to  think  him  blamable, 
because  he  took  leave  of  us  with  less  affection  than 
his  usual  behavior  has  shown.  And  is  no  allow- 
ance to  be  made  for  inadvertence,  or  for  spirits 
depressed  by  recent  disappointment?  Are  no  pro- 
babilities to  be  accepted,  merely  because  they  are 
not  certainties?  Is  nothing  due  to  the  man  whom 
we  have  all  so  much  reason  to  love,  and  no  reason 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


117 


in  the  world  to  think  ill  of?  —  to  the  possibilitj^  of 
motives  unanswerable  in  themselves,  though  un- 
avoidably secret  for  a  while?  And,  after  all,  what 
is  it  you  suspect  him  of  ?  ^' 

^^I  can  hardly  tell  you  myself.  But  suspicion 
of  something  unpleasant  is  the  inevitable  con- 
sequence of  such  an  alteration  as  we  have  just 
witnessed  in  him.  There  is  great  truth,  however, 
in  what  you  have  now  urged  of  the  allowances 
which  ought  to  be  made  for  him,  and  it  is  my  wish 
to  be  candid  in  my  judgment  of  everybody.  Wil- 
loughby  may,  undoubtedly,  have  very  sufficient 
reasons  for  his  conduct,  and  I  will  hope  that  he 
has.  But  it  would  have  been  more  like  Wil- 
loughby  to  acknowledge  them  at  once.  Secrecy 
may  be  advisable ;  but  still  I  cannot  help  wonder- 
ing at  its  being  practised  by  him.'' 

^^Do  not  blame  him,  however,  for  departing 
from  his  character,  where  the  deviation  is  neces- 
sary. But  you  really  do  admit  the  justice  of  what 
I  have  said  in  his  defence?  I  am  happy,  —  and 
he  is  acquitted." 

^^Kot  entirely.  It  may  be  proper  to  conceal 
their  engagement  (if  they  are  engaged)  from  Mrs. 
Smith;  and  if  that  is  the  case,  it  must  be  highly 
expedient  for  Willoughby  to  be  but  little  in 
Devonshire  at  present.  But  this  is  no  excuse  for 
their  concealing  it  from  us.'' 

Concealing  it  from  us!  my  dear  child,  do  you 


118 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


accuse  Willougliby  and  Marianne  of  concealment? 
This  is  strange,  indeed,  when  your  eyes  have  been 
reproaching  them  every  day  for  incautiousness." 

^^I  want  no  proof  of  their  affection,"  said 
Elinor,  "  but  of  their  engagement  I  do." 

^^I  am  perfectly  satisfied  of  both." 

"  Yet  not  a  syllable  has  been  said  to  you  on  the 
subject  by  either  of  them." 

^^I  have  not  wanted  syllables  where  actions 
have  spoken  so  plainly.  Has  not  his  behavior  to 
Marianne  and  to  all  of  us,  for  at  least  the  last 
fortnight,  declared  that  he  loved  and  considered 
her  as  his  future  wife,  and  that  he  felt  for  us  the 
attachment  of  the  nearest  relation?  Have  we  not 
perfectly  understood  each  other?  Has  not  my  con- 
sent been  daily  asked  by  his  looks,  his  manner, 
his  attentive  and  affectionate  respect?  My  Elinor, 
is  it  possible  to  doubt  their  engagement?  How 
could  such  a  thought  occur  to  you?  How  is  it  to 
be  supposed  that  Willoughby,  persuaded  as  he 
must  be  of  your  sister's  love,  should  leave  her,  and 
leave  her  perhaps  for  months,  without  telling  her 
of  his  affection,  —  that  they  should  part  without  a 
mutual  exchange  of  confidence?  " 

^^I  confess,"  replied  Elinor,  ^^that  every  cir- 
cumstance, except  one,  is  in  favor  of  their  en- 
gagement; but  that  one  is  the  total  silence  of  both 
on  the  subject,  and  with  me  it  almost  outweighs 
every  other." 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


119 


^^PIow  strange  tins  is!  You  must  think 
wretchedly  indeed  of  Willoughhy,  if,  after  all 
that  has  openly  passed  between  them,  you  can 
douht  the  nature  of  the  terms  on  which  they  are 
together.  Has  he  been  acting  a  part  in  his  be- 
havior to  your  sister  all  this  time?  Do  you  sup- 
pose him  really  indifferent  to  her? 

^^No,  I  cannot  think  that.  He  must  and  does 
love  her,  I  am  sure.^' 

"  But  with  a  strange  kind  of  tenderness,  if  he 
can  leave  her  with  such  indifference,  such  careless- 
ness of  the  future,  as  you  attribute  to  him.'^ 

You  must  remember,  my  dear  mother,  that  I 
have  never  considered  this  matter  as  certain.  I 
have  had  my  doubts,  I  confess ;  but  they  are  fainter 
than  they  were,  and  they  may  soon  be  entirely 
done  away.  If  we  find  they  correspond,  every  fear 
of  mine  will  be  removed." 

A  mighty  concession  indeed!  If  you  were  to 
see  them  at  the  altar,  you  would  suppose  they  were 
going  to  be  married.  Ungracious  girl!  But  I 
require  no  such  proof.  Nothing  in  my  opinion 
has  ever  passed  to  justify  doubt;  no  secrecy  has 
been  attempted;  all  has  been  uniformly  open  and 
unreserved.  You  cannot  doubt  your  sister's  wishes. 
It  must  be  Willoughb}^,  therefore,  whom  you 
suspect.  But  why?  Is  he  not  a  man  of  honor 
and  feeling?  Has  there  been  any  inconsistency 
on  his  side  to  create  alarm?  Can  he  be  deceitful? 


120 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


'^I  hope  not,  I  believe  not/'  cried  Elinor.  ^^I 
love  Willougliby,  sincerely  love  liim;  and  suspicion 
of  his  integrity  cannot  be  more  painful  to  yourself 
than  to  me.  It  has  been  involuntary,  and  I  v>  ill 
not  encourage  it.  I  was  startled,  I  confess,  b}^  the 
alteration  in  his  manners  this  morning;  he  did 
not  speak  like  himself,  and  did  not  return  your 
kindness  with  any  cordiality.  But  all  this  may 
be  explained  by  such  a  situation  of  his  affairs  as 
you  have  supposed.  He  had  just  parted  from  my 
sister,  had  seen  her  leave  him  in  the  greatest 
affliction;  and  if  he  felt  obliged,  from  a  fear  of 
offending  Mrs.  Smith,  to  resist  the  temptation  of 
returning  here  soon^  and  yet  aware  that  by  de- 
clining your  invitation,  by  saying  that  he  was 
going  away  for  some  time,  he  should  seem  to  act  an 
ungenerous,  a  suspicious  part  by  our  family,  he 
might  well  be  embarrassed  and  disturbed.  In 
such  a  case  a  plain  and  open  avowal  of  his 
difficulties  would  have  been  more  to  his  honor, 
I  think,  as  well  as  more  consistent  with  his 
general  character;  but  I  will  not  raise  objections 
against  any  one's  conduct  on  so  illiberal  a  foun- 
dation as  a  difference  in  judgment  from  myself,  or 
a  deviation  from  what  I  may  think  right  and 
consistent.'' 

^^You  speak  very  properly.  Willoughby  cer- 
tainly does  not  deserve  to  be  suspected.  Though 
we  have  not  known  him  long,  he  is  no  stranger  in 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


121 


this  part  of  the  Avorld;  and  who  has  ever  spoken  to 
his  disadvantage?  Had  he  been  in  a  situation 
to  net  independently  and  marry  immediately,  it 
might  have  been  odd  that  he  should  leave  us 
without  acknowledging  everything  to  me  at  once; 
but  this  is  not  the  case.  It  is  an  engagement 
in  some  respects  not  prosperously  begun,  for  their 
marriage  must  be  at  a  very  uncertain  distance; 
and  even  secrecy,  as  far  as  it  can  be  observed,  may 
now  be  very  advisable.'' 

They  were  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Mar- 
garet; and  Elinor  was  then  at  liberty  to  thin  e 
over  the  representations  of  her  mother,  to  acknowl- 
edge the  probability  of  many,  and  hope  for  the 
justice  of  all. 

They  saw  nothing  of  Marianne  till  dinner-time, 
when  she  entered  the  room  and  took  her  place  at 
the  table  without  saying  a  word.  Her  eyes  were 
red  and  swollen;  and  it  seemed  as  if  her  tears 
were  even  then  restrained  with  difficulty.  She 
avoided  the  looks  of  them  all,  could  neither  eat 
nor  speak,  and  after  some  time,  on  her  mother's 
silently  pressing  her  hand  with  tender  compassion, 
her  small  degree  of  fortitude  was  quite  overcome, 
she  burst  into  tears,  and  left  the  room. 

This  violent  oppression  of  spirits  continued  the 
whole  evening.  She  w^as  without  any  power, 
because  she  was  without  any  desire,  of  command 
over  herself.    The  slightest  mention  of  anything 


122 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


relative  to  Willoughby  overpowered  her  in  an 
instant;  and  though  her  family  were  most  anx- 
iously attentive  to  her  comfort,  it  was  impossible 
for  them,  if  they  spoke  at  all,  to  keep  clear 
of  every  subject  which  her  feelings  connected 
with  him. 


CHAPTEE  XVI. 


Marianne  would  have  thought  herself  very  inex- 
cusable had  she  been  able  to  sleep  at  all  the  first 
night  after  parting  from  Willoughby.  She  would 
have  been  ashamed  to  look  her  family  in  the  face 
the  next  morning,  had  she  not  risen  from  her  bed 
in  more  need  of  repose  than  when  she  lay  down  in 
it.  But  the  feelings  which  made  such  composure 
a  disgrace  left  her  in  no  danger  of  incurring  it. 
She  was  awake  the  whole  night,  and  she  wept  the 
greatest  part  of  it.  She  got  up  with  a  headache, 
was  unable  to  talk,  and  unwilling  to  take  any 
nourishment;  giving  pain  every  moment  to  her 
mother  and  sisters,  and  forbidding  all  attempt  at 
consolation  from  either.  Her  sensibility  was  po- 
tent enough! 

When  breakfast  was  over  she  walked  out  by  her- 
self, and  wandered  about  the  village  of  Allenham, 
indulging  the  recollection  of  past  enjoyment  and 
crying  over  the  present  reverse  for  the  chief  of  the 
morning. 

The  evening  passed  off  in  the  equal  indulgence 
of  feeling.    She  played  over  every  favorite  song 


124  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


that  she  had  been  used  to  play  to  Willonghby, 
every  air  in  which  their  voices  had  been  oftenest 
joined,  and  sat  at  the  instrument  gazing  on  every 
line  of  music  that  he  had  written  out  for  her,  till 
her  heart  w^as  so  heavy  that  no  further  sadness 
could  be  gained;  and  this  nourishment  of  grief 
was  every  day  applied.  She  spent  whole  hours  at 
the  pianoforte,  alternately  singing  and  crjang;  her 
voice  often  totally  suspended  by  her  tears.  In 
books,  too,  as  well  as  in  music,  she  courted  the 
misery  which  a  contrast  between  the  past  and 
present  was  certain  of  giving.  She  read  nothing 
but  what  they  had  been  used  to  read  together. 

Such  violence  of  affliction  indeed  could  not  be 
supported  forever;  it  sunk  within  a  few  days  into 
a  calmer  melancholy;  but  these  employments,  to 
which  she  daily  recurred,  her  solitary  walks  and 
silent  meditations,  still  produced  occasional  effu- 
sions of  sorrow  as  lively  as  ever. 

No  letter  from  Willoughby  came;  and  none 
seemed  expected  by  Marianne.  Her  mother  was 
surprised,  and  Elinor  again  became  uneasy.  But 
Mrs.  Dashwood  could  find  explanations,  when- 
ever she  wanted  them,  which  at  least  satisfied 
herself. 

^^Eemember,  Elinor,"  she  said,  ^^how  very 
often  Sir  John  fetches  our  letters  himself  from 
the  post,  and  carries  them  to  it.  We  have  already 
agreed  that  secrecy  may  be  necessary,  and  we  must 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


125 


acknowledge  that  it  could  not  be  maintained  if 
their  correspondence  were  to  pass  through  Sir 
John's  hands. 

Elinor  could  not  deny  the  truth  of  this,  and  she 
tried  to  find  in  it  a  motive  sufficient  for  their  si- 
lence. But  there  was  one  method  so  direct,  so 
simple,  and  in  her  opinion  so  eligible  of  knowing 
the  real  state  of  the  affair,  and  of  instantly  remov- 
ing all  mystery,  that  she  could  not  help  suggesting 
it  to  her  mother. 

Why  do  you  not  ask  Marianne  at  once,''  said 
she,  whether  she  is  or  is  not  engaged  to  Wil- 
loughby?  From  you,  her  mother,  and  so  kind,  so 
indulgent  a  mother,  the  question  could  not  give 
offence.  It  would  be  the  natural  result  of  your 
affection  for  her.  She  used  to  be  all  unreserve, 
and  to  you  more  especially." 

I  would  not  ask  such  a  question  for  the  w^orld. 
Supposing  it  possible  that  they  are  not  engaged, 
w^hat  distress  would  not  such  an  inquir}'-  inflict! 
At  any  rate,  it  would  be  most  ungenerous.  I 
should  never  deserve  her  confidence  again,  after 
forcing  from  her  a  confession  of  w^hat  is  meant  at 
present  to  be  unacknowledged  to  any  one.  I  know 
Marianne's  heart;  I  know  that  she  dearly  loves 
me,  and  that  I  shall  not  be  the  last  to  whom  the 
affair  is  made  known,  when  circumstances  make 
the  revealment  of  it  eligible.  I  would  not  attempt 
to  force  the  confidence  of  any  one,  —  of  a  child  much 


126 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


less;  because  a  sense  of  duty  would  prevent  the 
denial  wliicli  her  wishes  might  direct.'' 

Elinor  thought  this  generosity  overstrained,  con- 
sidering her  sister's  youth,  and  urged  the  matter 
further,  but  in  vain;  common  sense,  common  care, 
common  prudence,  were  all  sunk  in  Mrs.  Dash- 
wood's  romantic  delicacy. 

It  was  several  days  before  Willoughby's  name 
was  mentioned  before  Marianne  by  any  of  her  fam- 
ily (Sir  John  and  Mrs.  Jennings,  indeed,  were 
not  so  nice ;  their  witticisms  added  pain  to  many 
a  painful  hour) ;  but  one  evening  Mrs.  Dashwood, 
accidentally  taking  up  a  volume  of  Shakespeare, 
exclaimed,  — 

^^We  have  never  finished  Hamlet,  Marianne; 
our  dear  Willoughby  went  away  before  we  could 
get  through  it.  We  will  put  it  by,  that  when  he 
comes  again  —  But  it  may  be  months,  perhaps, 
before  that  happens." 

Months!"  cried  Marianne,  with  strong  sur- 
prise.    "  IsTo,  — nor  many  weeks." 

Mrs.  Dashwood  was  sorry  for  what  she  had  said; 
but  it  gave  Elinor  pleasure,  as  it  produced  a  reply 
from  Marianne  so  expressive  of  confidence  in  Wil- 
loughby and  knowledge  of  his  intentions. 

One  morning,  about  a  week  after  his  leaving  the 
country,  Marianne  was  prevailed  on  to  join  her 
sisters  in  their  usual  walk,  instead  of  wandering 
away  by  herself.     Hitherto   she   had  carefully 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


127 


avoided  every  companion  in  her  rambles.  If  lier 
sisters  intended  to  walk  on  the  downs,  she  directly 
stole  away  towards  the  lanes ;  if  they  talked  of  the 
valley,  she  was  as  speedy  in  climbing  the  hills, 
and  could  never  be  found  when  the  others  set  off. 
But  at  length  she  was  secured  by  the  exertions  of 
Elinor,  who  greatly  disapproved  such  continual  se- 
clusion. They  walked  along  the  road  through  the 
valley,  and  chiefly  in  silence;  for  Marianne's  mind 
could  not  be  controlled,  and  Elinor,  satisfied  with 
gaining  one  point,  would  not  then  attempt  more. 
Beyond  the  entrance  of  the  valley,  where  the 
country,  though  still  rich,  was  less  wild  and 
more  open,  a  long  stretch  of  the  road  which  they 
had  travelled  on  first  coming  to  Barton  lay  before 
them;  and  on  reaching  that  point  they  stopped  to 
look  around  them,  and  examine  a  prospect  which 
formed  the  distance  of  their  view  from  the  cottage, 
from  a  spot  w^hich  they  had  never  happened  to 
reach  in  any  of  their  walks  before. 

Amongst  the  objects  in  the  scene  they  soon  dis- 
covered an  animated  one;  it  was  a  man  on  horse- 
back riding  towards  them.  In  a  few  minutes  they 
could  distinguish  him  to  be  a  gentleman;  and 
in  a  moment  afterwards  Marianne  rapturously 
exclaimed,  — 

^^It  is  he,  — it  is  indeed;  I  know  it  is!''  and 
was  hastening  to  meet  him,  when  Elinor  cried 
out,  — 


128 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


Indeed,  Marianne,  I  think  you  are  mistaken. 
It  is  not  Willoughby.  The  person  is  not  tall 
enough  for  him,  and  has  not  his  air.'' 

"  He  has,  he  has/'  cried  Marianne;  ^^1  am  sure 
he  has,  —  his  air,  his  coat,  his  horse.  I  knew  how 
soon  he  would  come." 

She  walked  eagerly  on  as  she  spoke ;  and  Elinor, 
to  screen  Marianne  from  particularity,  as  she  felt 
almost  certain  of  its  not  being  Willoughby,  quick- 
ened her  pace  and  kept  up  with  her.  They  were 
soon  within  thirty  yards  of  the  gentleman.  Mari- 
anne looked  again;  her  heart  sunk  within  her; 
and  abruptly  turning  round,  she  was  hurrying 
back,  when  the  voices  of  both  her  sisters  were 
raised  to  detain  her;  a  third,  almost  as  well  known 
as  Willoughby's,  joined  them  in  begging  her  to 
stop,  and  she  turned  round  with  surprise  to  see 
and  welcome  Edward  Eerrars. 

He  was  the  only  person  in  the  world  w^ho  could 
at  that  moment  be  forgiven  for  not  being  Wil- 
loughby, the  only  one  who  could  have  gained  a 
smile  from  her;  but  she  dispersed  her  tears  to 
smile  on  him,  and  in  her  sister's  happiness  forgot 
for  a  time  her  own  disappointment. 

He  dismounted,  and  giving  his  horse  to  his  ser- 
vant, walked  back  with  them  to  Barton,  whither 
he  was  purposely  coming  to  visit  them. 

He  was  welcomed  by  them  all  with  great  cor- 
diality, but  especially  by  Marianne,  who  showed 


SENSE  AND  SENSIEn.ITY. 


129 


more  warmth  of  regard  in  her  reception  of  him 
than  even  Elinor  herself.  To  Marianne,  indeed, 
the  meeting  between  Edward  and  her  sister  was 
but  a  continuation  of  that  unaccountable  coldness 
which  she  had  observed  at  Norland  in  their  mutual 
behavior.  On  Edward's  side,  more  particularly, 
there  was  a  deficiency  of  all  that  a  lover  ought  to 
look  and  say  on  such  an  occasion.  He  was  con- 
fused, seemed  scarcely  sensible  of  pleasure  in  see- 
ing them,  looked  neither  rapturous  nor  gay,  said 
little  but  what  was  forced  from  him  by  questions, 
and  distinguished  Elinor  by  no  mark  of  affection. 
Marianne  saw  and  listened  with  increasing  sur- 
prise. She  began  almost  to  feel  a  dislike  of  Ed- 
ward; and  it  ended,  as  every  feeling  must  end 
with  her,  by  carrying  back  her  thoughts  to  Wil- 
loughby,  whose  manners  formed  a  contrast  suffi- 
ciently striking  to  those  of  his  brother  elect. 

After  a  short  silence  which  succeeded  the  first 
surprise  and  inquiries  of  meeting,  Marianne  asked 
Edward  if  he  came  directly  from  London.  No,  he 
had  been  in  Devonshire  a  fortnight. 

^^A  fortnight!  "  she  repeated,  surprised  at  his 
being  so  long  in  the  same  county  with  Elinor  with- 
out seeing  her  before. 

He  looked  rather  distressed  as  he  added  that 
he  had  been  staying  with  some  friends  near 
Plymouth. 

Have  you  been  lately  in  Sussex?     said  Elinor. 

VOL.  I.  —  9 


130  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


I  was  at  Norland  about  a  month  ago." 
And  how  does  dear,   dear  Norland  look?  " 
cried  Marianne. 

^^Dear,  dear  Norland/^  said  Elinor,  probably 
looks  much  as  it  always  does  at  this  time  of  the 
year,  —  the  woods  and  walks  thickly  covered  with 
dead  leaves." 

^^Oh,"  cried  Marianne,  ^^with  what  transport- 
ing sensations  have  I  formerly  seen  them  fall! 
How  have  I  delighted,  as  I  walked,  to  see  them 
driven  in  showers  about  me  by  the  wind!  What 
feelings  have  they,  the  season,  the  air  altogether 
inspired!  Now  there  is  no  one  to  regard  them. 
They  are  seen  only  as  a  nuisance,  swept  hastily  off, 
and  driven  as  much  as  possible  from  the  sight." 

^^It  is  not  everyone,"  said  Elinor,  ^^who  has' 
your  passion  for  dead  leaves." 

"  No.  My  feelings  are  not  often  shared,  not 
often  understood;  but  sometimes  they  are."  As 
she  said  this  she  sunk  into  a  reverie  for  a  few 
moments;  but  rousing  herself  again,  ^^Now,  Ed- 
ward," said  she,  calling  his  attention  to  the  pros- 
pect, ^^here  is  Barton  valley.  Look  up  it,  and 
be  tranquil  if  you  can.  Look  at  those  hills.  Did 
you  ever  see  their  equals?  To  the  left  is  Barton 
Park,  amongst  those  w^oods  and  plantations.  You 
may  see  the  end  of  the  house.  And  there,  be- 
neath that  farthest  hill,  which  rises  with  such 
grandeur,  is  our  cottage." 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY.  131 


^^It  is  a  beautiful  country,"  he  replied;  ^^but 
these  bottoms  must  be  dirty  in  winter." 

^^How  can  you  think  of  dirt  with  such  objects 
before  you?  " 

Because,"  replied  he,  smiling,  among  the 
rest  of  the  objects  before  me  I  see  a  very  dirty 
lane." 

^^How  strange!  "  said  Marianne  to  herself,  as 
she  walked  on. 

^^Have  you  an  agreeable  neighborhood  here? 
Are  the  Middletons  pleasant  people?  " 

"1^0,  not  all,"  answered  Marianne ;  ^^we  could 
not  be  more  unfortunately  situated." 

Marianne,"  cried  her  sister,  ^^how  can  you 
say  so?  How  can  you  be  so  unjust?  They 
are  a  very  respectable  family,  Mr.  Ferrars,  and 
towards  us  have  behaved  in  the  friendliest  man- 
ner. Have  you  forgot,  Marianne,  how  many  pleas- 
ant days  we  have  owed  to  them?  " 

^^No,"  said  Marianne,  in  a  low  voice,  ^^nor 
how  many  painful  moments." 

Elinor  took  no  notice  of  this ;  and  directing  her 
attention  to  their  visitor,  endeavored  to  support 
something  like  discourse  with  him,  by  talking  of 
their  present  residence,  its  conveniences,  etc.,  ex- 
torting from  him  occasional  questions  and  remarks. 
His  coldness  and  reserve  mortified  her  severely; 
she  was  vexed  and  half  angry;  but  resolving  to 


132  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


regulate  her  behavior  to  him  by  the  past  rather 
than  the  present,  she  avoided  every  appearance  of 
resentment  or  displeasure,  and  treated  him  as  she 
thought  he  ought  to  be  treated  from  the  family 
connection. 


CHAPTEE  XVII. 


Mrs.  Dashwood  was  surprised  only  for  a  moment 
at  seeing  him;  for  his  coming  to  Barton  was,  in 
her  opinion,  of  all  things  the  most  natural.  Her 
joy  and  expressions  of  regard  long  outlived  her 
wonder.  He  received  the  kindest  welcome  from 
her;  and  shyness,  coldness,  reserve  could  not  stand 
against  such  a  reception.  They  had  begun  to  fail 
him  before  he  entered  the  house,  and  they  were 
quite  overcome  by  the  captivating  manners  of  Mrs. 
Dashwood.  Indeed  a  man  could  not  very  well  be 
in  love  with  either  of  her  daughters,  without  ex- 
tending the  passion  to  her;  and  Elinor  had  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  him  soon  become  more  like 
himself.  His  affections  seemed  to  re-animate 
towards  them  all,  and  his  interest  in  their  wel- 
fare again  became  perceptible.  He  was  not  in 
spirits,  however;  he  praised  their  house,  admired 
its  prospect,  was  attentive  and  kind;  but  still  he 
was  not  in  spirits.  The  whole  family  perceived 
it;  and  Mrs.  Dashwood,  attributing  it  to  some 
want  of  liberality  in  his  mother,  sat  down  to  table 
indignant  against  all  selfish  parents. 


134 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


What  are  Mrs.  Ferrars's  views  for  you  at  pres- 
ent, Edward?  said  she,  when  dinner  was  over, 
and  they  had  drawn  round  the  fire;  "  are  you  still 
to  be  a  great  orator  in  spite  of  yourself?  " 

"1^0,  I  hope  my  mother  is  now  convinced  that 
I  have  no  more  talents  than  inclination  for  a  pub- 
lic life.'^ 

"  But  how  is  your  fame  to  be  established,  —  for 
famous  you  must  be  to  satisfy  all  your  family ;  and 
with  no  inclination  for  expense,  no  affection  for 
strangers,  no  profession,  and  no  assurance,  you  may 
find  it  a  difficult  matter." 

^^I  shall  not  attempt  it.  I  have  no  wish  to  be 
distinguished;  and  I  have  every  reason  to  hope  I 
never  shall.  Thank  Heaven!  I  cannot  be  forced 
into  genius  and  eloquence.'^ 

^^You  have  no  ambition,  I  well  know.  Your 
wishes  are  all  moderate." 

' '  As  moderate  as  those  of  the  rest  of  the  world, 
I  believe.  I  wish,  as  well  as  everybody  else,  to  be 
perfectly  happy;  but  like  everybody  else,  it  must 
be  in  my  own  way.  Greatness  will  not  make 
me  so." 

' '  Strange  if  it  would ! '  ^  cried  Marianne.  ' '  What 
have  wealth  or  grandeur  to  do  with  happiness?  " 

Grandeur  has  but  little,"  said  Elinor,  ^^but 
wealth  has  much  to  do  with  it." 

Elinor,  for  shame!  "  said  Marianne;  money 
can  only  give  happiness  where  there  is  nothing  else 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


135 


to  give  it.  Beyond  a  competence,  it  can  afford  no 
real  satisfaction,  as  far  as  mere  self  is  concerned.'' 
Perhaps/'  said  Elinor,  smiling,  we  may 
come  to  the  same  point.  Your  competence  and 
my  wealth  are  very  much  alike,  I  dare  say;  and 
without  them,  as  the  world  goes  now,  we  shall  both 
agree  that  every  kind  of  external  comfort  must  be 
wanting.  Your  ideas  are  only  more  noble  than 
mine.    Come,  what  is  your  competence?  " 

About  eighteen  hundred  or  two  thousand  a 
year;  not  more  than  that,^^ 

Elinor  laughed.  Two  thousand  a  year!  One 
is  my  wealth!    I  guessed  how  it  would  end." 

"  And  yet  two  thousand  a  year  is  a  very  mod- 
erate income,"  said  Marianne.  ^^A  family  can- 
not well  be  maintained  on  a  smaller.  I  am  sure 
I  am  not  extravagant  in  my  demands.  A  propei* 
establishment  of  servants,  a  carriage,  perhaps  two, 
and  hunters,  cannot  be  supported  on  less." 

Elinor  smiled  again,  to  hear  her  sister  describ- 
ing so  accurately  their  future  expenses  at  Combe 
Magna. 

' '  Hunters !  ' '  repeated  Edward ;  ^ '  but  why  must 
you  have  hunters?    Everybody  does  not  hunt." 

Marianne  colored  as  she  replied,  ^^But  most 
people  do." 

^^I  wish,"  said  Margaret,  striking  out  a  novel 
thought,  ^^that  somebody  would  give  us  all  a  larg^*^ 
fortune  apiece!  " 


136 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


Oh  that  the}^  would!  "  cried  Marianne,  her  eyes 
sparkling  with  animation,  and  her  cheeks  glowing 
with  the  delight  of  such  imaginary  happiness. 

^^We  are  all  unanimous  in  that  wish,  I  sup- 
pose/' said  Elinor,  in  spite  of  the  insufficiency 
of  wealth." 

Oh  dear!  cried  Margaret,  how  happy  I 
should  be!    I  wonder  what  I  should  do  with  it.'' 

Marianne  looked  as  if  she  had  no  doubt  on  that 
point. 

^^I  should  be  puzzled  to  spend  a  large  fortune 
myself,"  said  Mrs.  Dashwood,  ^^if  my  children 
were  all  to  be  rich  without  my  help." 

^^You  must  begin  your  improvements  on  this 
house,"  observed  Elinor,  ^^and  your  difficulties 
will  soon  vanish." 

^^What  magnificent  orders  would  travel  from 
this  family  to  London,"  said  Edward,  in  such 
an  event!  What  a  happy  day  for  booksellers, 
music-sellers,  and  print-shops!  You,  Miss  Dash- 
wood,  would  give  a  general  commission  for  every 
new  print  of  merit  to  be  sent  you  —  and  as  for 
Marianne,  I  know  her  greatness  of  soul;  there 
would  not  be  music  enough  in  London  to  content 
her.  And  books !  —  Thomson,  Cowper,  Scott,  — 
she  would  buy  them  all  over  and  over  again :  she 
would  buy  up  every  copy,  I  believe,  to  prevent  their 
falling  into  unworthy  hands;  and  she  would  have 
every  book  that  tells  her  how  to  admire  an  old 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


137 


twisted  tree.  Should  not  yon,  Marianne?  For- 
give me,  if  I  am  very  saucy;  but  I  was  willing  to 
show  you  that  I  had  not  forgot  our  old  disputes." 

^*  I  love  to  be  reminded  of  the  past,  Edward,  — 
whether  it  be  melancholy  or  gay,  I  love  to  recall 
it,  —  and  you  will  never  offend  me  by  talking  of 
former  times.  You  are  very  right  in  supposing 
how  my  money  would  be  spent;  some  of  it,  at 
least,  —  my  loose  cash,  —  would  certainly  be  em- 
ployed in  improving  my  collection  of  music  and 
books.'' 

' '  And  the  bulk  of  your  fortune  would  be  laid 
out  in  annuities  on  the  authors  or  their  heirs.'' 

^^No,  Edward,  I  should  have  something  else  to 
^o  with  it." 

Perhaps,  then,  you  would  bestow  it  as  a  re- 
ward on  that  person  who  wrote  the  ablest  defence 
of  your  favorite  maxim,  that  no  one  can  ever  be  in 
love  more  than  once  in  their  life,  —  for  your  opinion 
on  that  point  is  unchanged,  I  presume?" 

Undoubtedly.  At  my  time  of  life  opinions 
are  tolerably  fixed.  It  is  not  likely  that  I  should 
now  see  or  hear  anything  to  change  them." 

Marianne  is  as  steadfast  as  ever,  you  see," 
said  Elinor;  ^^she  is  not  at  all  altered." 

' '  She  is  only  grown  a  little  more  grave  than  she 
was." 

^^ISTay,  Edward,"  said  Marianne,  you  need  not 
reproach  me.    You  are  not  very  gay  yourself." 


138 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


Why  should  you  think  so?''  replied  he,  with 
a  sigh.  ^'But  gayety  never  was  a  part  of  my 
character/' 

Nor  do  I  think  it  a  part  of  Marianne's/'  said 
Elinor.  '^I  should  hardly  call  her  a  lively  girl; 
she  is  very  earnest,  very  eager  in  all  she  does,  — 
sometimes  talks  a  great  deal,  and  always  with  ani- 
mation, —  hut  she  is  not  often  really  merry." 

^^I  believe  yon  are  right,"  he  replied  ^^and 
yet  I  have  always  set  her  down  as  a  lively  girl." 

I  have  frequently  detected  myself  in  such  kind 
of  mistakes,"  said  Elinor,  in  a  total  misappre- 
hension of  character  in  some  point  or  other;  fancy- 
ing peoplu  so  much  more  gay  or  grave  or  ingenious 
or  stupid  than  they  really  are,  and  I  can  hardly 
tell  why,  or  m  what  the  deception  originated. 
Sometimes  one  is  guided  by  what  they  say  of 
themselves,  and  very  frequently  by  what  other 
people  say  of  them,  without  giving  one's  self 
time  to  deliberate  and  judge." 

^^But  I  thought  it  was  right,  Elinor,"  said 
Marianne,  ^*to  be  guided  wholly  by  the  opinion  of 
other  people.  I  thought  our  judgments  were  given 
us  merely  to  be  subservient  to  those  of  our  neigh- 
bors. This  has  always  been  your  doctrine,  I  am 
sure." 

'^No,  Marianne,  never.  My  doctrine  has  never 
aimed  at  the  subjection  of  the  understanding.  All 
I  have  ever  attempted  to  influence  has  been  the 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


139 


belavior.  You  must  not  confound  my  meaning. 
I  am  guilty,  I  confess,  of  having  often  wished  you 
to  treat  our  acquaintance  in  general  with  greater 
attention;  but  when  have  I  advised  you  to  adopt 
their  sentiments  or  conform  to  their  judgment  in 
serious  matters? 

^^You  have  not  been  able,  then,  to  bring 
your  sister  over  to  your  plan  of  general  civil- 
ity," said  Edward  to  Elinor.  ^^Do  you  gain  no 
ground?  " 

Quite  the  contrary,"  replied  Elinor,  looking 
expressively  at  Marianne. 

^^M}^  judgment,"  he  returned,  ^^is  all  on  your 
side  of  the  question;  but  I  am  afraid  my  practice 
is  much  more  on  your  sister's.  I  never  wish  to 
offend,  but  I  am  so  foolishly  shy  that  I  often  seem 
negligent,  when  I  am  only  kept  back  by  my  natu- 
ral awkwardness.  I  have  frequently  thought  that 
I  must  have  been  intended  by  nature  to  be  fond  of 
low  company,  I  am  so  little  at  my  ease  among 
strangers  of  gentility!  " 

Marianne  has  not  shyness  to  excuse  any  inat- 
tention of  hers,"  said  Elinor. 

^'  She  knows  her  own  worth  too  well  for  false 
shame,"  replied  Edward.  Shyness  is  only  the 
effect  of  a  sense  of  inferiority  in  some  way  or 
other.  If  I  could  persuade  myself  that  my  man- 
ners were  perfectly  easy  and  graceful,  I  should  not 
be  shy." 


140 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY 


^^But  you  would  still  be  reserved/'  said  Mari 
anne,     and  that  is  worse." 

Edward  started.       Reserved!    Ami  reserved, 
Marianne?  " 
Yes,  very." 

I  do  not  understand  you,"  replied  he,  coloring. 
*<Eeserved! — how,  in  what  manner?  What  am 
I  to  tell  you?    What  can  you  suppose?" 

Elinor  looked  surprised  at  his  emotion;  but  try- 
ing to  laugh  off  the  subject,  she  said  to  him:  Do 
not  you  know  my  sister  well  enough  to  under- 
stand what  she  means?  Do  not  you  know  she 
calls  every  one  reserved  who  does  not  talk  as  fast 
and  admire  what  she  admires  as  rapturously  as 
herself?" 

Edward  made  no  answer.  His  gravity  and 
thoughtfulness  returned  on  him  in  their  fullest 
extent;  and  he  sat  for  some  time  silent  and  dull. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


Elinor  saw,  with  great  uneasiness,  the  low  spirits 
of  her  friend.  His  visit  afforded  her  but  a  very 
partial  satisfaction  while  his  own  enjoyment  in  it 
appeared  so  imperfect.  It  was  evident  that  he 
was  unhappy;  she  wished  it  were  equally  evident 
that  he  still  distinguished  her  by  the  same  affec- 
tion which  once  she  had  felt  no  doubt  of  inspiring; 
but  hitherto  the  continuance  of  his  preference 
seemed  very  uncertain,  and  the  reservedness  of 
his  manner  towards  her  contradicted  one  moment 
what  a  more  animated  look  had  intimated  the  pre- 
ceding one. 

He  joined  her  and  Marianne  in  the  breakfast- 
room  the  next  morning  before  the  others  were 
down;  and  Marianne,  who  was  always  eager  to 
promote  their  happiness  as  far  as  she  could,  soon 
left  them  to  themselves.  But  before  she  was  half- 
way upstairs  she  heard  the  parlor  door  open,  and 
turning  round,  was  astonished  to  see  Edward  him- 
self come  out. 

"  I  am  going  into  the  village  to  see  my  horses," 
said  he,  as  you  are  not  yet  ready  for  breakfast  j  I 
shall  be  back  again  presently." 


142 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


Edward  returned  to  them  with  fresh  admiration 
of  the  surrounding  country.  In  his  walk  to  the 
village  he  had  seen  many  parts  of  the  valley  to  ad- 
vantage; and  the  village  itself,  in  a  much  higher 
situation  than  the  cottage,  afforded  a  general  view 
of  the  whole  which  had  exceedingly  pleased  him. 
This  was  a  subject  which  insured  Marianne's  at- 
tention; and  she  was  beginning  to  describe  her 
own  admiration  of  these  scenes,  and  to  question 
him  more  minutely  on  the  objects  that  had  partic- 
ularly struck  him,  when  Edward  interrupted  her 
by  saying;  You  must  not  inquire  too  far,  Mari- 
anne. Remember  I  have  no  knowledge  in  the  pic 
turesque,  and  I  shall  offend  you  by  my  ignorance 
and  w^ant  of  taste  if  we  come  to  particulars.  I 
shall  call  hills  steep  which  ought  to  be  bold, 
surfaces  strange  and  uncouth  which  ought  to  be 
irregular  and  rugged,  and  distant  objects  out  of 
sight  which  ought  only  to  be  indistinct  through 
the  soft  medium  of  a  hazy  atmosphere.  You  must 
be  satisfied  with  such  admiration  as  I  can  honestly 
give.  I  call  it  a  very  fine  country, — the  hills 
are  steep,  the  woods  seem  full  of  fine  timber,  and 
the  valley  looks  comfortable  and  snug,  —  with 
rich  meadows  and  several  neat  farmhouses  scat- 
tered here  and  there.  It  exactly  answers  my  idea 
of  a  fine  country,  because  it  unites  beauty  with 
utility,  —  and  I  dare  say  it  is  a  picturesque  one  too, 
because  you  admire  it.    I  can  easily  believe  it  to 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


143 


be  full  of  rocks  and  promontories,  gray  moss  and 
brushwood;  but  these  are  all  lost  on  me.  I  know 
nothing  of  the  picturesque.'^ 

^^I  am  afraid  it  is  but  too  true/'  said  Marianne; 
^^but  why  should  you  boast  of  it?'' 

'^I  suspect/'  said  Elinor,  ^'that  to  avoid  one 
kind  of  affectation,  Edward  here  falls  into  another. 
Because  he  believes  many  people  pretend  to  more 
admiration  of  the  beauties  of  nature  than  they 
really  feel,  and  is  disgusted  with  such  pretensions, 
he  affects  great  indifference  and  less  discrimination 
in  viewing  them  himself  than  he  possesses.  He  is 
fastidious,  and  will  have  an  affectation  of  his  own." 

^^It  is  very  true,"  said  Marianne,  ''that  admi- 
ration of  landscape  scenery  has  become  a  mere 
jargon.  Everybody  pretends  to  feel  and  tries  to 
describe  with  the  taste  and  elegance  of  him  who 
first  defined  what  picturesque  beauty  was.  I  detest 
jargon  of  every  kind;  and  sometimes  I  have  kept 
my  feelings  to  myself,  because  I  could  find  no  lan- 
guage to  describe  them  in  but  what  was  worn  and 
hackneyed  out  of  all  sense  and  meaning." 

''I  am  convinced,"  said  Edward,  ''that  you 
really  feel  all  the  delight  in  a  fine  prospect  which 
you  profess  to  feel.  But,  in  return,  your  sister 
must  allow  me  to  feel  no  more  than  I  profess.  I 
like  a  fine  prospect,  but  not  on  picturesque  princi- 
ples. I  do  not  like  crooked,  twisted,  blasted  trees. 
I  admire  them  much  more  if  they  are  tall,  straight, 


144 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


and  flourishing.  I  do  not  like  ruined,  tattered 
cottages.  I  am  not  fond  of  nettles  or  thistles,  or 
heath  blossoms.  I  have  more  pleasure  in  a  snug 
farmhouse  than  a  watch-tower,  —  and  a  troop  of 
tidy,  happy  villagers  please  me  better  than  the 
finest  banditti  in  the  world. 

Marianne  looked  with  amazement  at  Edward, 
with  compassion  at  her  sister.  Elinor  only 
laughed. 

The  subject  was  continued  no  further;  and  Ma- 
rianne remained  thoughtfully  silent,  till  a  new 
object  suddenly  engaged  her  attention.  She  was 
sitting  by  Edward,  and,  in  taking  his  tea  from 
Mrs.  Dashwood,  his  hand  passed  so  directly  before 
her  as  to  make  a  ring,  with  a  plait  of  hair  in  the 
centre,  very  conspicuous  on  one  of  his  fingers. 

I  never  saw  you  wear  a  ring  before,  Edward," 
she  cried.  Is  that  Fanny's  hair?  I  remember 
her  promising  to  give  you  some.  But  I  should 
have  thought  her  hair  had  been  darker." 

Marianne  spoke  inconsiderately  what  she  really 
fel!;,  but  when  she  saw  how  much  she  had  pained 
Edward,  her  own  vexation  at  her  want  of  thought 
coula  not  be  surpassed  by  his.  He  colored  very 
deeply,  and,  giving  a  momentary  glanc3  at  Elinor^ 
replied:  ^*  Yes,  it  is  my  sister's  hair.  The  setting 
always  casts  a  different  shade  on  it,  you  know." 

Elinor  had  met  his  eye,  and  looked  conscious 
likewise.    That  the  hair  was  her  own,  she  instan- 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


145 


taneously  felt  as  well  satisfied  as  Marianne;  the 
only  difference  in  their  conclusions  was,  that  what 
Marianne  considered  as  a  free  gift  from  hor  sister, 
Elinor  was  conscious  must  have  been  procured  by 
some  theft,  or  contrivance  unknown  to  herself. 
She  was  not  in  a  humor,  however,  to  regard  it  as 
an  affront;  and  affecting  to  take  no  notice  of  what 
passed,  by  instantly  talking  of  something  else,  she 
internally  resolved  henceforward  to  catch  every 
opportunity  of  eying  the  hair  and  of  satisfying 
herself,  beyond  all  doubt,  that  it  was  exactly  the 
shade  of  her  own. 

Edward^s  embarrassment  lasted  some  time,  and 
it  ended  in  an  absence  of  mind  still  more  settled. 
He  was  particularly  grave  the  whole  morning. 
Marianne  severely  censured  herself  for  what  she 
had  said;  but  her  own  forgiveness  might  have 
been  more  speedy,  had  she  known  how  little  of- 
fence it  had  given  her  sister. 

Before  the  middle  of  the  da}^  they  were  visited 
by  Sir  John  and  Mrs.  Jennings,  who,  having 
heard  of  the  arrival  of  a  gentleman  at  the  cottage, 
came  to  take  a  survey  of  the  guest.  With  the  as- 
sistance of  his  mother-in-law.  Sir  John  was  not 
long  in  discovering  that  the  name  of  Eerrars  began 
with  an  E.  And  this  prepared  a  future  mine  of 
raillery  against  the  devoted  Elinor,  which  nothing 
but  the  newness  of  their  acquaintance  with  Ed- 
ward could  have  prevented  from  being  immediately 

VOL.  I.  — 10 


146  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


sprung.  But,  as  it  was,  she  only  learned  from 
some  very  significant  looks,  how  far  their  penetra- 
tion, founded  on  Margaret's  instructions,  extended. 

Sir  John  never  came  to  the  Dashwoods  without 
either  inviting  them  to  dine  at  the  Park  the  next 
day,  or  to  drink  tea  with  them  that  evening.  On 
the  present  occasion,  for  the  better  entertainment 
of  their  visitor,  towards  whose  amusement  he  felt 
himself  bound  to  contribute,  he  wished  to  engage 
them  for  both. 

^^You  must  drink  tea  with  us  to-night,"  said 
he,  ^^for  we  shall  be  quite  alone;  and  to-morrow 
you  must  absolutely  dine  with  us,  for  we  shall  be 
a  large  party." 

Mrs.  Jennings  enforced  the  necessity.  ^^And 
who  knows  but  you  may  raise  a  dance?  "  said  she. 

And  that  will  tempt  you,  Miss  Marianne." 

^^A  dance?"  cried  Marianne.  Impossible! 
Who  is  to  dance?" 

^^Who?  Why,  yourselves,  and  the  Careys  and 
Whitakers,  to  be  sure.  What!  you  thought  no- 
body could  dance  because  a  certain  person  that 
shall  be  nameless  is  gone!  " 

^^I  wish  with  all  my  soul,"  cried  Sir  John, 
^^that  Willoughby  were  among  us  again." 

This,  and  Marianne's  blushing,  gave  new  sus- 
picions to  Edward.  And  who  is  Willoughby?  " 
said  he  in  a  low  voice  to  Miss  Dashwood,  by  whom 
he  was  sitting. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


147 


She  gave  liim  a  brief  reply.  Marianne's  coun- 
tenance was  more  communicative.  Edward  saw 
enough  to  comprehend,  not  only  the  meaning  of 
others,  but  such  of  Marianne's  expressions  as  had 
puzzled  him  before;  and  when  their  visitors  left 
them  he  went  immediately  round  her,  and  said,  in 
a  whisper:  ^^I  have  been  guessing.  Shall  I  tell 
you  my  guess?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean?  '' 

Shall  I  tell  you?  " 

Certainly." 

^^Well,  then;  I  guess  that  Mr.  Willoughby 
hunts." 

Marianne  was  surprised  and  confused,  yet  she 
could  not  help  smiling  at  the  quiet  archness  of  his 
manner,  and,  after  a  moment's  silence,  said,  — 

Oh,  Edward!  How  can  you?  —  But  the  time 
will  come,  I  hope  —  I  am  sure  you  will  like  him." 

^^I  do  not  doubt  it,"  replied  he,  rather  aston- 
ished at  her  earnestness  and  warmth;  for  had  he 
not  imagined  it  to  be  a  joke  for  the  good  of  her 
acquaintance  in  general,  founded  only  on  a  some- 
thing or  a  nothing  between  Mr.  Willoughby  and 
herself,  he  would  not  have  ventured  to  mention  it. 


CHAPTEE  XIX. 


Edward  remained  a  week  at  the  cottage;  lie  was 
earnestly  pressed  by  Mrs.  Dasliwood  to  stay  lon- 
ger; but,  as  if  he  were  bent  only  on  self -morti- 
fication, he  seemed  resolved  to  be  gone  when  his 
enjoyment  among  his  friends  was  at  the  height. 
His  spirits  during  the  last  two  or  three  days, 
though  still  very  unequal,  were  greatly  improved  ; 
he  grew  more  and  more  partial  to  the  house  and 
environs,  never  spoke  of  going  away  without  a 
sigh,  declared  his  time  to  be  wholly  disengaged, 
even  doubted  to  what  place  he  should  go  when 
he  left  them,  — but  still,  go  he  must.  ISTever  had 
any  week  passed  so  quickly,  —  he  could  hardly  be- 
lieve it  to  be  gone.  He  said  so  repeatedly;  other 
things  he  said,  too,  which  marked  the  turn  of  his 
feelings,  and  gave  the  lie  to  his  actions.  He  had 
no  pleasure  at  Norland,  he  detested  being  in  town; 
but  either  to  ]!^orland  or  London  he  must  go.  He 
valued  their  kindness  beyond  anything,  and  his 
greatest  happiness  was  in  being  with  them;  yet 
he  must  leave  them  at  the  end  of  the  week,  in 
spite  of  their  wishes  and  his  own,  and  without  any 
restraint  on  his  time. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY.  149 


Elinor  placed  all  that  was  astonishing  in  this 
way  of  acting  to  his  mother's  account;  and  it  was 
happy  for  her  that  he  had  a  mother  whose  char- 
acter was  so  imperfectly  known  to  her  as  to  be  the 
general  excuse  for  everything  strange  on  the  part 
of  her  son.  Disappointed,  however,  and  vexed  as 
she  was,  and  sometimes  displeased  with  his  uncer- 
tain behavior  to  herself,  she  was  very  well  disposed 
on  the  whole  to  regard  his  actions  with  all  the 
candid  allowances  and  generous  qualifications 
which  had  been  rather  more  painfully  extorted 
from  her,  for  Willoughby's  service,  by  her  mother. 
His  want  of  spirits,  of  openness,  and  of  consist- 
ency were  most  usually  attributed  to  his  want  of 
independence,  and  his  better  knowledge  of  Mrs. 
Ferrars's  dispositions  and  designs.  The  shortness 
of  his  visit,  the  steadiness  of  his  purpose  in  leav- 
ing them,  originated  in  the  same  fettered  inclina- 
tion, the  same  inevitable  necessity  of  temporizing 
with  his  mother.  The  old,  well-established  griev- 
ance of  duty  against  will,  parent  against  child, 
was  the  cause  of  all.  She  would  have  been  glad  to 
know  when  these  difficulties  were  to  cease,  this  op- 
position were  to  yield,  —  when  Mrs.  Ferrars  would 
be  reformed,  and  her  son  be  at  liberty  to  be  happy. 
But  from  such  vain  wishes  she  was  forced  to  turn 
for  comfort  to  the  renewal  of  her  confidence  in  Ed- 
ward's affection,  to  the  remembrance  of  every  mark 
of  regard  in  look  or  word  which  fell  from  him  while 


150  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


at  Barton,  and  above  all,  to  that  flattering  proof  of 
it  which  he  constantly  wore  round  his  finger. 

''1  think,  Edward/^  said  Mrs.  Dashwood,  as 
they  were  at  breakfast  the  last  morning,  ^^you 
would  be  a  happier  man  if  you  had  any  profession 
to  engage  your  time  and  give  an  interest  to  your 
plans  and  actions.  Some  inconvenience  to  your 
friends,  indeed,  might  result  from  it,  —  you  would 
not  be  able  to  give  them  so  much  of  your  time. 
But,"  with  a  smile,  ^^you  would  be  materially 
benefited  in  one  particular  at  least,  — you  would 
know  where  to  go  when  you  left  them." 

^^I  do  assure  you,"  he  replied,  ^Hhat  I  have 
long  thought  on  this  point  as  you  think  now.  It 
has  been,  and  is,  and  probably  will  always  be  a 
heavy  misfortune  to  me,  that  I  have  had  no  neces- 
sary business  to  engage  me,  no  profession  to  give 
me  employment  or  afford  me  anything  like  inde- 
pendence. But  unfortunately  my  own  nicety  and 
the  nicety  of  my  friends  have  made  me  what  I 
am, — an  idle,  helpless  being.  We  never  could 
agree  in  our  choice  of  a  profession.  I  always  pre- 
ferred the  church,  as  I  still  do;  but  that  was  not 
smart  enough  for  my  family.  They  recommended 
the  army:  that  was  a  great  deal  too  smart  for 
me.  The  law  was  allowed  to  be  genteel  enough, 
—  many  young  men  who  had  chambers  in  the 
Temple  made  a  very  good  appearance  in  the  first 
circles,  and  drove  about  town  in  very  knowing 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


151 


gigs;  but  I  had  no  inclination  for  tlie  law,  even 
in  this  less  abstruse  study  of  it,  which  my  family 
approved.  As  for  the  navy,  it  had  fashion  on  its 
side,  but  I  was  too  old  when  the  subject  was  first 
started  to  enter  it;  and  at  length,  as  there  was  no 
necessity  for  my  having  any  profession  at  all,  as  I 
might  be  as  dashing  and  expensive  without  a  red 
coat  on  my  back  as  with  one,  idleness  was  pro- 
nounced on  the  whole  to  be  the  most  advantageous 
and  honorable,  and  a  young  man  of  eighteen  is 
not  in  general  so  earnestly  bent  on  being  busy  as 
to  resist  the  solicitations  of  his  friends  to  do 
nothing.  I  was  therefore  entered  at  Oxford,  and 
have  been  properly  idle  ever  since. 

^^The  consequence  of  which,  I  suppose,  will 
be,"  said  Mrs.  Dashwood,  since  leisure  has  not 
promoted  your  own  happiness,  that  your  sons  will 
be  brought  up  to  as  many  pursuits,  employments, 
professions,  and  trades  as  Columella's." 

They  will  be  brought  up, "  said  he,  in  a  serious 
accent,  ^' to  be  as  unlike  myself  as  is  possible,  — ■ 
in  feeling,  in  action,  in  condition,  in  everything." 

^^Come,  come;  this  is  all  an  effusion  of  im- 
mediate want  of  spirits,  Edward.  You  are  in  a 
melancholy  humor,  and  fanc}^  that  any  one  unlike 
yourself  mjjst  be  happy.  But  remember  that  the 
pain  of  parting  from  friends  will  be  felt  by  every- 
body at  times,  whatever  be  their  education  or  state. 
Know  your  own  happiness.    You  want  nothing 


152  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


but  patience ;  or  give  it  a  more  fascinating  name,  — 
call  it  hope.  Your  mother  will  secure  to  you  in 
time  that  independence  you  are  so  anxious  for;  jt 
is  her  duty,  and  it  will,  it  must  erelong,  become 
her  happiness  to  prevent  your  whole  youth  from 
being  wasted  in  discontent.  How  much  may  not 
a  few  months  do?  " 

^^I  think,''  replied  Edward,  ^^that  I  may  defj'' 
many  months  to  produce  any  good  to  me." 

This  desponding  turn  of  mind,  though  it  could 
not  be  communicated  to  Mrs.  Dashwood,  gave  ad- 
ditional pain  to  them  all  in  the  parting,  which 
shortly  took  place,  and  left  an  uncomfortable  im- 
pression on  Elinor's  feelings  especially,  which 
required  some  trouble  and  time  to  subdue.  But 
as  it  was  her  determination  to  subdue  it,  and  to 
prevent  herself  from  appearing  to  suffer  more  than 
what  all  her  family  suffered  on  his  going  away, 
she  did  not  adopt  the  method  so  judiciously  em- 
ployed by  Marianne,  on  a  similar  occasion,  to  aug- 
ment and  fix  her  sorrow,  by  seeking  silence, 
solitude,  and  idleness.  Their  means  were  as  dif- 
ferent as  their  objects,  and  equally  suited  to  the 
advancement  of  each. 

Elinor  sat  down  to  her  drawing-table  as  soon  as 
he  was  out  of  the  house,  busily  employed  herself 
the  whole  day,  neither  sought  nor  avoided  the 
mention  of  his  name,  appeared  to  interest  herself 
almost  as  much  as  ever  in  the  general  concerns  of 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY.  153 


the  family;  and  if  by  this  conduct  she  did  not 
lessen  her  own  grief,  it  was  at  least  prevented  from 
unnecessary  increase,  and  her  mother  and  sisters 
were  spared  much  solicitude  on  her  account. 

Such  behavior  as  this,  so  exactly  the  reverse  of 
her  own,  appeared  no  more  meritorious  to  Mari- 
anne than  her  own  had  seemed  faulty  to  her. 
The  business  of  self-command  she  settled  very 
easily,  —  with  strong  affections  it  was  impossible, 
with  calm  ones  it  could  have  no  merit.  That  her 
sister's  affections  were  calm,  she  dared  not  deny, 
though  she  blushed  to  acknowledge  it;  and  of  the 
strength  of  her  own  she  gave  a  very  striking 
proof,  by  still  loving  and  respecting  that  sister  in 
spite  of  this  mortifying  conviction. 

"Without  shutting  herself  up  from  her  family, 
or  leaving  the  house  in  determined  solitude  to 
avoid  them,  or  lying  awake  the  whole  night  to  in- 
dulge meditation,  Elinor  found  every  day  afforded 
her  leisure  enough  to  think  of  Edward  and  of 
Edward's  behavior  in  every  possible  variety  which 
the  different  state  of  her  spirits  at  different  times 
could  produce,  —  with  tenderness,  pity,  approba- 
tion, censure,  and  doubt.  There  were  moments  in 
abundance,  when,  if  not  by  the  absence  of  her 
mother  and  sisters,  at  least  by  the  nature  of  their 
employments,  conversation  was  forbidden  among 
them,  and  every  effect  of  solitude  was  produced. 
Her  mind  was  inevitably  at  liberty;  her  thoughts 


154  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


could  not  be  chained  elsewhere;  and  the  past  and 
the  future,  on  a  subject  so  interesting,  must  be 
before  her,  must  force  her  attention,  and  engross 
her  memory,  her  reflection,  and  her  fancy. 

From  a  reverie  of  this  kind,  as  she  sat  at  her 
drawing-table,  she  was  roused  one  morning,  soon 
after  Edward's  leaving  them,  by  the  arrival  of 
company.  She  happened  to  be  quite  alone.  The 
closing  of  the  little  gate  at  the  entrance  of  the 
green  court  in  front  of  the  house  drew  her  eyes  to 
the  window,  and  she  saw  a  large  party  walking  up 
to  the  door.  Amongst  them  were  Sir  John  and 
Lady  Middleton  and  Mrs.  Jennings;  but  there 
w^ere  two  others,  a  gentleman  and  lady,  who  were 
quite  unknown  to  her.  She  was  sitting  near  the 
window;  and  as  soon  as  Sir  John  perceived  her, 
he  left  the  rest  of  the  party  to  the  ceremony  of 
knocking  at  the  door,  and  stepping  across  the 
turf,  obliged  her  to  open  the  casement  to  speak 
to  him,  though  the  space  was  so  short  between 
the  door  and  the  window  as  to  make  it  hardly 
possible  to  speak  at  one  without  being  heard  at 
the  other. 

^^Well,^^  said  he,  ^^we  have  brought  you  some 
strangers.    How  do  you  Irl^e  them? 

^^Hush!  they  will  hear  yon.'^ 
Never  mind  if   they  do.     It    is    only  the 
Palmers.    Charlotte  is  very  pretty,  I  can  tell  you. 
You  may  see  her  if  you  look  this  way.'' 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


155 


As  Elinor  was  certain  of  seeing  her  in  a  couple 
of  minutes  without  taking  that  liberty,  she  begged 
to  be  excused. 

Where  is  Marianne?  Has  she  run  away  be- 
cause we  are  come?  I  see  her  instrument  is 
open.'' 

She  is  walking,  I  believe.'' 

They  were  now  joined  by  Mrs.  Jennings,  who 
had  not  patience  enough  to  wait  till  the  door  was 
opened  before  she  told  her  story.  She  came  hal- 
looing to  the  window:  "  Plow  do  you  do,  my  dear? 
How  does  Mrs.  Dashwood  do?  And  where  are 
your  sisters?  What!  all  alone?  you  will  be  glad 
of  a  little  company  to  sit  with  you.  I  have 
brought  my  other  son  and  daughter  to  see  you. 
Only  think  of  their  coming  so  suddenly!  I 
thought  I  heard  a  carriage  last  night,  while  we 
were  drinking  our  tea,  but  it  never  entered  my 
head  tliat  it  could  be  them.  I  thought  of  nothing 
but  whether  it  might  not  be  Colonel  Brandon  come 
back  again;  so  I  said  to  Sir  John,  do  think  I 
hear  a  carriage;  perhaps  it  is  Colonel  Brandon 
come  back  again  —  '  " 

Elinor  was  obliged  to  turn  from  her,  in  the 
middle  of  her  story,  to  receive  the  rest  of  the 
party.  Lady  Middleton  introduced  the  two  stran- 
gers; Mrs.  Dashwood  and  Margaret  came  down- 
stairs at  the  same  time,  and  they  all  sat  down  to 
look  at  one  another,  while  Mrs.  Jennings  contin- 


156 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


ued  her  story  as  she  walked  through  the  passage 
into  the  parlor  attended  by  Sir  John. 

Mrs.  Palmer  was  several  years  younger  than 
Lady  Middleton,  and  totally  unlike  her  in  every 
respect.  She  was  short  and  plump,  had  a  very 
pretty  face,  and  the  finest  expression  of  good- 
humor  in  it  that  could  possibly  be.  Her  man- 
ners were  by  no  means  so  elegant  as  her  sister's, 
but  they  were  much  more  prepossessing.  She 
came  in  with  a  smile,  smiled  all  the  time  of  her 
visit,  except  when  she  laughed,  and  smiled  when 
she  went  away.  Her  husband  was  a  grave-look- 
ing young  man  of  five  or  six  and  twenty,  with  an 
air  of  more  fashion  and  sense  than  his  wife,  but 
of  less  willingness  to  please  or  be  pleased.  He 
entered  the  room  with  a  look  of  self-consequence, 
slightly  bowed  to  the  ladies,  without  speaking  a 
word,  and,  after  briefly  surveying  them  and  their 
apartments,  took  up  a  newspaper  from  the  table, 
and  continued  to  read  it  as  long  as  he  stayed. 

Mrs.  Palmer,  on  the  contrary,  who  was  strongly 
endowed  by  nature  with  a  turn  for  being  uniformly 
civil  and  happy,  was  hardly  seated  before  her  ad- 
miration of  the  parlor  and  everything  in  it  burst 
forth. 

"  Well!  what  a  delightful  room  this  is!  I  never 
saw  anything  so  charming!  Only  think,  mamma, 
how  it  is  improved  since  I  was  here  last !  I  always 
thought  it  such  a  sweet  place,  ma'am,''  turning  to 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


157 


Mrs.  Dasliwood,  ^^but  you  have  made  it  so  charm- 
ing! Only  look,  sister,  how  delightful  everything 
is !  How  I  should  like  such  a  house  for  myself ! 
Should  not  you,  Mr.  Palmer? 

Mr.  Palmer  made  her  no  answer,  and  did  not 
even  raise  his  eyes  from  the  newspaper. 

Mr.  Palmer  does  not  hear  me, said  she, 
laughing;  "  he  never  does  sometimes.  It  is  so 
ridiculous!  " 

This  was  quite  a  new  idea  to  Mrs.  Dashwood; 
she  had  never  been  used  to  find  wit  in  the  inatten- 
tion of  any  one,  and  could  not  help  looking  with 
surprise  at  them  both. 

Mrs.  Jennings  in  the  mean  time  talked  on  as 
loud  as  she  could,  and  continued  her  account  of 
their  surprise,  the  evening  before,  on  seeing  their 
friends,  without  ceasing  till  everything  was  told. 
Mrs.  Palmer  laughed  heartily  at  the  recollection 
of  their  astonishment,  and  everybody  agreed,  two 
or  three  times  over,  that  it  had  been  quite  an 
agreeable  surprise. 

^^You  may  believe  how  glad  we  all  were  to 
see  them,"  added  Mrs.  Jennings,  leaning  forward 
towards  Elinor,  and  speaking  in  a  low  voice  as  if 
she  meant  to  be  heard  by  no  one  else,  though  they 
were  seated  on  different  sides  of  the  room;  ^^but, 
however,  I  can't  help  wishing  they  had  not  trav- 
elled quite  so  fast,  nor  made  such  a  long  journey  of 
it,  for  they  came  all  round  by  London  upon  account 


158 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


of  some  business,  for  you  know,"  nodding  signifi- 
cantly and  pointing  to  her  daughter,  it  was  wrong 
in  her  situation.  I  wanted  her  to  stay  at  home 
and  rest  this  morning,  but  she  would  come  with 
us;  she  longed  so  much  to  see  you  all! 

Mrs.  Palmer  laughed,  and  said  it  would  not  do 
her  any  harm. 

She  expects  to  be  confined  in  February,"  con- 
tinued Mrs.  Jennings. 

Lady  Middleton  could  no  longer  endure  such  a 
conversation,  and  therefore  exerted  herself  to  ask 
Mr.  Palmer  if  there  was  any  news  in  the  paper. 

^''No,  none  at  all,"  he  replied,  and  read  on. 
Here   comes    Marianne,"    cried   Sir  John. 
'''Now J  Palmer,  you  shall  see  a  monstrous  pretty 
girl." 

He  immediately  went  into  the  passage,  opened 
the  front  door,  and  ushered  her  in  himself.  Mrs. 
Jennings  asked  her,  as  soon  as  she  appeared,  if 
she  had  not  been  to  Allenham;  and  Mrs.  Palmer 
laughed  so  heartily  at  the  question  as  to  show  she 
understood  it.  Mr.  Palmer  looked  up  on  her  en- 
tering the  room,  stared  at  her  some  minutes,  and 
then  returned  to  his  newspaper.  Mrs.  Palmer's 
eye  was  now  caught  by  the  drawings  which  hung 
round  the  room.    She  got  up  to  examine  them. 

"  Oh  dear,  how  beautiful  these  are!  Well,  how 
delightful!  Do  but  look,  mamma,  how  sweet!  I 
declare  they  are  quite  charming;  I  could  look  at 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


159 


tliem  forever.^'  And  then  sitting  down  again,  she 
very  soon  forgot  that  there  were  any  such  things 
in  the  room. 

When  Lady  Middleton  rose  to  go  away,  Mr. 
Palmer  rose  also,  laid  down  the  newspaper, 
stretched  himself,  and  looked  at  them  all  around. 

^^My  love,  have  you  been  asleep?'^  said  his 
wife,  Iciughing. 

He  made  her  no  answer;  and  only  observed, 
after  again  examining  the  room,  that  it  was  very 
low-pitclied,  and  that  the  ceiling  was  crooked. 
He  then  made  his  bow,  and  departed  with  the 
rest. 

Sir  John  had  been  very  urgent  with  them  all  to 
spend  the  next  day  at  the  Park.  Mrs.  Dashwood, 
who  did  not  choose  to  dine  with  them  oftener  than 
they  dined  at  the  cottage,  absolutely  refused  on 
her  own  account;  her  daughters  might  do  as  they 
pleased.  But  they  had  no  curiosity  to  see  how  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Palmer  ate  their  dinner,  and  no  expec- 
tation of  pleasure  from  them  in  any  other  way. 
They  attempted,  therefore,  likewise  to  excuse  them- 
selves ;  the  weather  was  uncertain,  and  not  likely 
to  be  good.  But  Sir  John  would  not  be  satisfied, 
—  the  carriage  should  be  sent  for  them,  and  they 
must  come.  Lady  Middleton  too,  though  she  did 
not  press  their  mother,  pressed  them.  Mrs.  Jen- 
nings and  Mrs.  Palmer  joined  their  entreaties^  — 


160  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


all  seemed  equally  anxious  to  avoid  a  family  part}^ ; 
and  the  young  ladies  were  obliged  to  yield. 

Why  should  they  ask  us?  "  said  Marianne^  as 
soon  as  they  were  gone.  ^^The  rent  of  this  cot- 
tage is  said  to  be  low;  but  we  have  had  it  on  very 
hard  terms,  if  we  are  to  dine  at  the  Park  whenever 
any  one  is  staying  either  with  them  or  with  us." 

^^They  mean  no  less  to  be  civil  and  kind  to  us 
now/'  said  Elinor,  ^^by  these  frequent  invitations 
than  by  those  which  we  received  from  them  a  few 
weeks  ago.  The  alteration  is  not  in  them,  if  their 
parties  are  grown  tedious  and  dull.  We  must  look 
for  the  change  elsewhere." 


CHAPTEE  XX. 


As  the  Miss  Dasliwoods  entered  the  drawing-room 
of  the  Park  the  next  day  at  one  door,  Mrs.  Palmer 
came  running  in  at  the  other,  looking  as  good- 
humored  and  merry  as  before.  She  took  them  all 
most  affectionately  by  the  hand,  and  expressed 
great  delight  in  seeing  them  again. 

^^I  am  so  glad  to  see  you!  "  said  she,  seating 
herself  between  Elinor  and  Marianne;  for  it  is 
so  bad  a  day  I  was  afraid  you  might  not  come, 
which  would  be  a  shocking  thing,  as  we  go  away 
again  to-morrow.  We  must  go,  for  the  Westons 
come  to  us  next  week,  you  know.  It  was  quite  a 
sudden  thing  our  coming  at  all;  and  I  knew  noth- 
ing of  it  till  the  carriage  was  coming  to  the  door, 
and  then  Mr.  Palmer  asked  me  if  I  would  go  with 
him  to  Barton.  He  is  so  droll!  He  never  tells 
me  anything !  I  am  so  sorry  we  cannot  stay  longer ; 
however,  we  shall  meet  again  in  town  very  soon,  I 
hope." 

The}^  were  obliged  to  put  an  end  to  such  an 
expectation. 

^^Not  go  to  town!  cried  Mrs.  Palmer,  with  a 
laugh;  ''I  shall  be  quite  disappointed  if  you  do 

VOL.  I.  — 11 


162 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


not.  I  could  get  the  nicest  house  in  the  world  for 
you,  next  door  to  ours  in  Hanover  Square.  You 
must  come,  indeed.  I  am  sure  I  shall  be  very 
happy  to  chaperon  you  at  any  time  till  I  am  con- 
fined, if  Mrs.  Dashwood  should  not  like  to  go  into 
public.'^ 

They  thanked  her,  but  were  obliged  to  resist  all 
her  entreaties. 

^^Oh,  my  love,"  cried  Mrs.  Palmer  to  her  hus- 
band, who  just  then  entered  the  room,  ^^you  must 
help  me  to  persuade  the  Miss  Dashwoods  to  go  to 
town  this  winter.'' 

Her  love  made  no  answer;  and  after  slightly 
bowing  to  the  ladies,  began  complaining  of  the 
weather. 

^^How  horrid  all  this  is!"  said  he.  Such- 
weather  makes  everything  and  everybody  disgust- 
ing. Dulness  is  as  much  produced  within  doors 
as  without  by  rain.  It  makes  one  detest  all  one's 
acquaintance.  What  the  devil  does  Sir  John  mean 
by  not  having  a  billiard-room  in  his  house?  Hoav 
few  people  know  what  comfort  is!  Sir  John  is  as 
stupid  as  the  weather." 

The  rest  of  the  company  soon  dropped  in. 

^^I  am  afraid.  Miss  Marianne,"  said  Sir  John, 
^^you  have  not  been  able  to  take  your  usual  walk 
to  AUenham  to-day." 

Marianne  looked  very  grave,  and  said  nothing. 

^^Oh,  don't  be  so  sly  before  us,"  said  Mrs. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


163 


Palmer;  ^^for  we  know  all  about  it,  I  assure  you; 
and  I  admire  your  taste  very  much,  for  I  think  he 
is  extremely  handsome.  We  do  not  live  a  great 
way  from  him  in  the  country^  you  know.  Not 
aDove  ten  miles,  I  dare  say." 

'  ^  Much  nearer  thirty, ' '  said  her  husband. 

*^Ah,  well!  there  is  not  much  difference.  I 
never  was  at  his  house;  but  they  say  it  is  a  sweet 
pretty  place.'' 

As  vile  a  spot  as  I  ever  saw  in  my  life,"  said 
Mr.  Palmer. 

Marianne  remained  perfectly  silent,  though  her 
countenance  betrayed  her  interest  in  what  was 
said. 

^^Is  it  very  ugly?"  continued  Mrs.  Palmer; 
^^then  it  must  be  some  other  place  that  is  so 
pretty,  I  suppose." 

When  they  were  seated  in  the  dining-room.  Sir 
John  observed  with  regret  that  they  were  only 
eight  altogether. 

^^My  dear,"  said  he  to  his  lady,  ^^it  is 
very  provoking  that  we  should  be  so  few.  Why 
did  not  you  ask  the  Gilberts  to  come  to  us  to- 
day? " 

^^Did  not  I  tell  you,  Sir  John,  when  you  spoke 
to  me  about  it  before,  that  it  could  not  be  done? 
They  dined  with  us  last." 

^^You  and  I,  Sir  John,"  said  Mrs.  Jennings, 
should  not  stand  upon  such  ceremony." 


164 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


^^Then  you  would  be  very  ill-bred/'  cried  Mr. 
Palmer. 

My  love,  you  contradict  everybody,"  said  his 
wife,  with  her  usual  laugh.  ' '  Do  you  know  that 
you  are  quite  rude?  " 

^^I  did  not  know  I  contradicted  anybody  in 
calling  your  mother  ill-bred." 

^^Ay,  you  may  abuse  me  as  you  please,"  said 
the  good-natured  old  lady :  ' '  you  have  taken 
Charlotte  off  my  hands,  and  cannot  give  her  back 
again;  so  there  I  have  the  whip  hand  of  you." 

Charlotte  laughed  heartily  to  think  that  her 
husband  could  not  get  rid  of  her;  and  exultingly 
said  she  did  not  care  how  cross  he  was  to  her, 
as  they  must  live  together.  It  was  impossible  for 
any  one  to  be  more  thoroughly  good-natured  or 
more  determined  to  be  happy  than  Mrs.  Palmer. 
The  studied  indifference,  insolence,  and  discontent 
of  her  husband  gave  her  no  pain;  and  when  he 
scolded  or  abused  her,  she  was  highly  diverted. 

"  Mr.  Palmer  is  so  droll !  "  said  she,  in  a  whisper 
to  Elinor.       He  is  always  out  of  humor." 

Elinor  was  not  inclined,  after  a  little  obser- 
vation, to  give  him  credit  for  being  so  genuinely 
and  unaffectedly  ill-natured  or  ill-bred  as  he 
wished  to  appear.  His  temper  might  perhaps  be 
a  little  soured  by  finding,  like  many  others  of  his 
sex,  that  through  some  unaccountable  bias  in  favor 
of  beauty,  he  was  the  husband  of  a  very  silly 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


165 


woman;  but  she  knew  that  this  kind  of  blunder 
was  too  common  for  any  sensible  man  to  be 
lastingly  hurt  by  it.  It  was  rather  a  wish  of 
distinction,  she  believed,  which  produced  his  con- 
temptuous treatment  of  everybod}^,  and  his  general 
abuse  of  everything  before  him.  It  was  the  de- 
sire of  appearing  superior  to  other  people.  The 
motive  was  too  common  to  be  wondered  at;  but 
the  means,  however  they  might  succeed  by  estab- 
lishing his  superiority  in  ill-breeding,  were  not 
likely  to  attach  any  one  to  him  except  his  wife. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Miss  Dashwood,^'  said  Mrs. 
Palmer,  soon  afterwards,  "  I  have  gor  such  a  favor 
to  ask  of  you  and  your  sister!  Will  you  come  and 
spend  some  time  at  Cleveland  this  Christmas? 
]^ow,  pray  do,  —  and  come  while  the  Westons  are 
with  us.  You  cannot  think  how  happy  I  shall 
be!  It  will  be  quite  delightful!  My  love,'' 
applying  to  her  husband,  don't  you  long  to 
have  the  Miss  Dashwoods  come  to  Cleveland?" 

Certainly,"  he  replied,  with  a  sneer;  ^^I 
came  into  Devonshire  with  no  other  view." 

There  now,"  said  his  lady,  ^^you  see  Mr. 
Palmer  expects  you;  so  you  cannot  refuse  to  come." 

They  both  eagerly  and  resolutely  declined  her 
invitation. 

^^But  indeed  you  must  and  shall  come.  I  am 
sure  you  will  like  it  of  all  things.  The  Westons 
will  be  with  us,  and  it  will  be  quite  delightful. 


166 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


You  cannot  think  what  a  sweet  place  Cleveland  is ; 
and  we  are  so  gay  now,  for  Mr.  Palmer  is  always 
going  about  the  country  canvassing  against  the 
election,  and  so  many  people  come  to  dine  with 
us  that  I  never  saw  before;  it  is  quite  charming! 
But,  poor  fellow!  it  is  very  fatiguing  to  him,  for 
he  is  forced  to  make  everybody  like  him.'' 

Elinor  could  hardly  keep  her  countenance  as  she 
assented  to  the  hardship  of  such  an  obligation. 

How  charming  it  will  be,''  said  Charlotte, 
^^when  he  is  in  Parliament,  won't  it?  How  I 
shall  laugh!  It  will  be  so  ridiculous  to  see  all  his 
letters  directed  to  him  with  an  M.  P.  But  do  you 
know,  he  says  he  will  never  frank  for  me?  He 
declares  he  won't;  don't  you,  Mr.  Palmer? 'V 

Mr.  Palmer  took  no  notice  of  her. 

^^He  cannot  bear  writing,  you  know,"  she  con- 
tinued; ^^he  says  it  is  quite  shocking." 

^^No, "  said  he,  ^^I  never  said  anything  so 
irrational.  Don't  palm  all  your  abuses  of  lan- 
guage upon  me." 

There  now,  you  see  how  droll  he  is.  This  is 
always  the  way  with  him!  Sometimes  he  won't 
speak  to  me  for  half  a  day  together,  and  then  he 
comes  out  with  something  so  droll,  —  all  about 
anything  in  the  world." 

She  surprised  Elinor  very  much,  as  they  re- 
turned into  the  drawing-room,  by  asking  her 
whether  she  did  not  like  Mr.  Palmer  excessively. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


167 


Certainly, "  said  Elinor;  ^^he  seems  very 
agreeable.'' 

^^Well,  I  am  so  glad  you  do.  I  thought  you 
would,  he  is  so  pleasant;  and  Mr.  Palmer  is  ex- 
cessively pleased  with  you  and  your  sisters,  I  can 
tell  you;  and  you  can't  think  how  disappointed  he 
will  be  if  you  don't  come  to  Cleveland.  I  can't 
imagine  why  you  should  object  to  it." 

Elinor  was  again  obliged  to  decline  her  invi- 
tation, and  by  changing  the  subject,  put  a  stop 
to  her  entreaties.  She  thought  it  probable  that  as 
they  lived  in  the  same  county  Mrs.  Palmer  might 
be  able  to  give  some  more  particular  account  of 
Willoughby's  general  character  than  could  be  gatli* 
ered  from  the  Middletons'  partial  acquaintance 
with  him;  and  she  was  eager  to  gain  from  any  one 
such  a  confirmation  of  his  merits  as  might  remove 
the  possibility  of  fear  from  Marianne.  She  began 
by  inquiring  if  they  saw  much  of  Mr.  Willoughby 
at  Cleveland,  and  whether  they  were  intimately 
acquainted  with  him. 

Oh  dear,  yes;  I  know  him  extremely  well," 
replied  Mrs.  Palmer,  —  "  not  that  I  ever  spoke  to 
him,  indeed,  but  I  have  seen  him  forever  in  town. 
Somehow  or  other  I  never  happened  to  be  staying 
at  Barton  while  he  was  at  Allenham;  mamma  saw 
him  here  once  before,  but  I  was  with  my  uncle  at 
Weymouth.  However,  I  dare  say  we  should  have 
seen  a  great  deal  of  him  in  Somersetshire  if  it  had 

4t 


168 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


not  happened  very  unluckily  that  we  should  never 
have  been  in  the  country  together.  He  is  very 
little  at  Combe,  I  believe;  but  if  he  were  ever  so 
much  there,  I  do  not  think  Mr.  Palmer  would  visit 
him,  for  he  is  in  the  opposition,  you  know;  and 
besides  it  is  such  a  way  off.  I  know  why  you 
.hiquire  about  him  very  well, — your  sister  is  to 
marry  him.  I  am  monstrous  glad  of  it,  for  then  I 
shall  have  her  for  a  neighbor,  you  know.'' 

^  ^  Upon  my  word, ' '  replied  Elinor,  ^^you  know 
much  more  of  the  matter  than  I  do,  if  you  have 
any  reason  to  expect  such  a  match." 

"  Don't  pretend  to  deny  it,  because  you  know  it 
is  what  everybody  talks  of.  I  assure  you  I  heard 
of  it  in  my  way  through  town." 

^^My  dear  Mrs.  Palmer!  " 

'^Upon  my  honor  I  did.  I  met  Colonel  Bran- 
don Monday  morning  in  Bond  Street,  just  before 
we  left  town,  and  he  told  me  of  it  directly." 

^^You  surprise  me  very  much.  Colonel  Bran- 
don tell  you  of  it?  Surely  you  must  be  mistaken. 
To  give  such  intelligence  to  a  person  who  could 
not  be  interested  in  it,  even  if  it  were  true,  is  not 
what  I  should  expect  Colonel  Brandon  to  do." 

^^But  I  do  assure  you  it  was  so,  for  all  that; 
and  I  will  tell  you  how  it  happened.  When  we 
met  him,  he  turned  back  and  walked  with  us ;  and 
so  we  began  talking  of  my  brother  and  sister, 
and  one  thing  and  another,  and  I  said  to  him: 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


169 


^  So,  Colonel,  there  is  a  new  family  come  to 
Barton  Cottage,  I  hear;  and  mamma  sends  me  word 
they  are  very  pretty,  and  that  one  of  them  is  go- 
ing to  be  married  to  Mr.  Willoughby  of  Combe 
Magna.  Is  it  true,  pray?  for  of  course  you  must 
know,  as  you  have  been  in  Devonshire  so  lately.' 
"  And  what  did  the  Colonel  say? 

Oh,  he  did  not  say  much,  but  he  looked  as  if 
he  knew  it  to  be  true;  so  from  that  moment  I  set 
it  down  as  certain.  It  will  be  quite  delightful,  I 
declare.    When  is  it  to  take  place?'' 

Mr.  Brandon  was  very  well,  I  hope?  " 

Oh,  yes,  quite  well;  and  so  full  of  your 
praises,  he  did  nothing  but  say  fine  things  of 
you." 

^^I  am  flattered  by  his  commendation.  He 
seems  an  excellent  man,  and  I  think  him  uncom- 
monly pleasing." 

So  do  I.  He  is  such  a  charming  man  that  it 
is  quite  a  pity  he  should  be  so  grave  and  so  dull. 
Mamma  says  he  was  in  love  with  your  sister  too. 
I  assure  you  it  was  a  great  compliment  if  he  was, 
for  he  hardly  ever  falls  in  love  with  anybody." 

^^Is  Mr.  Willoughby  much  known  in  your  part 
of  Somersetshire?  "  said  Elinor. 

^^Oh,  yes,  extremely  well;  that  is,  I  do  not 
believe  many  people  are  acquainted  with  him,  be- 
cause Combe  Magna  is  so  far  off,  but  they  all 
think  him  extremely  agreeable^  I  assure  you.  No- 


170 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


body  is  more  liked  than  Mr.  Willougliby,  wher- 
ever he  goes;  and  so  you  may  tell  your  sister. 
She  is  a  monstrous  lucky  girl  to  get  him,  upon  my 
honor;  not  but  that  he  is  much  more  lucky  in 
getting  her,  because  she  is  so  very  handsome  and 
agreeable  that  nothing  can  be  good  enough  for  her. 
However,  I  don't  think  her  hardly  at  all  hand- 
somer than  you,  I  assure  you;  for  I  think  you 
both  excessively  pretty,  and  so  does  Mr.  Palmer 
too,  I  am  sure,  though  we  could  not  get  him  to 
own  it  last  night." 

Mrs.  Palmer's  information  respecting  Wil- 
loughby  was  not  very  material;  but  any  testimony 
in  his  favor,  however  small,  was  pleasing  to  her. 

^^lamso  glad  we  are  got  acquainted  at  last/' 
continued  Charlotte,  ^^and  now  I  hope  we  shall 
always  be  great  friends.  You  can't  think  how 
much  I  longed  to  see  you.  It  is  so  delightful  that 
yon  should  live  at  the  cottage ;  nothing  can  be  like 
it,  to  be  sure.  And  I  am  so  glad  your  sister  is 
going  to  be  well  married.  I  hope  you  will  be  a 
great  deal  at  Combe  Magna;  it  is  a  sweet  place, 
by  all  accounts." 

You  have  been  long  acquainted  with  Colonel 
Brandon,  have  not  you?  " 

Yes,  a  great  while ;  ever  since  my  sister  mar- 
ried. He  was  a  particular  friend  of  Sir  John's.  I 
believe,"  she  added,  in  a  low  voice,  ^^he  would 
"have  been  very  glad  to  have  had  me,  if  he  could. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


171 


Sir  John  and  Lady  Middleton  wished  it  very 
much;  but  mamma  did  not  think  the  match  good 
enough  for  me,  otherwise  Sir  John  would  have 
mentioned  it  to  the  Colonel,  and  we  should  have 
been  married  immediately.'' 

^^Did  not  Colonel  Brandon  know  of  Sir  John's 
proposal  to  your  mother  before  it  was  made  ?  Had 
he  never  owned  his  affection  to  yourself?  " 

Oh,  no;  but  if  mamma  had  not  objected  to  it, 
I  dare  say  he  would  have  liked  it  of  all  things. 
He  had  not  seen  me  then  above  twice,  for  it  was 
before  I  left  school.  However,  I  am  much  hap- 
pier as  I  am.  Mr.  Palmer  is  just  the  kind  of  man 
I  like." 


CHAPTEE  XXI. 


The  Palmers  returned  to  Cleveland  the  next  day, 
and  the  two  families  at  Barton  were  again  left  to 
entertain  each  other.  But  this  did  not  last  long; 
Elinor  had  hardly  got  their  last  visitors  out  of  her 
head,  — had  hardly  done  wondering  at  Charlotte's 
being  so  happy  without  a  cause,  at  Mr.  Palmer's 
acting  so  simply,  with  good  abilities,  and  at  the 
strange  unsuitableness  which  often  existed  be- 
tween husband  and  wife,  —  before  Sir  John's  and 
Mrs.  Jennings's  active  zeal  in  the  cause  of  society 
procured  her  some  other  new  acquaintance  to  see 
and  observe. 

In  a  morning's  excursion  to  Exeter  they  had 
met  with  two  young  ladies  whom  Mrs.  Jennings 
had  the  satisfaction  of  discovering  to  be  her  rela- 
tions, and  this  was  enough  for  Sir  John  to  invite 
them  directly  to  the  Park  as  soon  as  their  present 
engagements  at  Exeter  were  over.  Their  engage- 
ments at  Exeter  instantly  gave  way  before  such  an 
invitation;  and  Lady  Middleton  was  thrown  into 
no  little  alarm,  on  the  return  of  Sir  John,  by 
hearing  that  she  was  very  soon  to  receive  a  visit 
from  two  girls  whom  she  had  never  seen  in  her 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY.  173 


life,  and  of  whose  elegance  —  whose  tolerable  gen- 
tility even  —  she  could  have  no  proof,  for  the 
assurances  of  her  husband  and  mother  on  that  sub- 
ject went  for  nothing  at  all.  Their  being  her 
relations,  too,  made  it  so  much  the  worse;  and 
Mrs.  Jennings^s  attempts  at  consolation  were, 
therefore,  unfortunately  founded  when  she  advised 
her  daughter  not  to  care  about  their  being  so 
fashionable,  because  they  were  all  cousins,  and 
must  put  up  with  one  another.  As  it  was  impossi- 
ble, however,  now  to  prevent  their  coming.  Lady 
Middleton  resigned  herself  to  the  idea  of  it  with 
all  the  philosophy  of  a  well-bred  woman,  contenting 
herself  with  merely  giving  her  husband  a  gentle 
reprimand  on  the  subject  five  or  six  times  every 
day. 

The  young  ladies  arrived.  Their  appearance 
was  by  no  means  un genteel  or  unfashionable;  their 
dress  was  very  smart,  their  manners  very  civil. 
They  were  delighted  with  the  house,  and  in  rap- 
tures with  the  furniture;  and  they  happened  to  be 
so  doatingly  fond  of  children  that  Lady  Middle- 
ton's  good  opinion  was  engaged  in  their  favor 
before  they  had  been  an  hoar  at  the  Park.  She 
declared  them  to  be  very  agreeable  girls  indeed, 
which,  for  her  Ladyship,  was  enthusiastic  admira- 
tion. Sir  John's  confidence  in  his  own  judgment 
rose  with  this  animated  praise,  and  he  set  off 
directly  for  the  cottage,  to  tell  the  Miss  Dash- 


174 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


woods  of  the  Miss  Steeles'  arrival^  and  to  assure 
tliem  of  their  being  the  sweetest  girls  in  the  world. 
From  such  commendation  as  this,  however,  there 
was  not  much  to  be  learned:  Elinor  well  knew 
that  the  sweetest  girls  in  the  world  were  to  be  met 
with  in  every  part  of  England,  under  every  pos- 
sible variation  of  form,  face,  temper,  and  under- 
standing. Sir  John  wanted  the  whole  family  to 
walk  to  the  Park  directly,  and  look  at  his  guests. 
Benevolent,  philanthropic  man!  It  was  painful 
to  him  even  to  keep  a  third  cousin  to  himself. 

"  Do  come  now,"  said  he;  ^^pray  come,  —  you 
must  come,  — I  declare  you  shall  come.  You  can't 
think  how  you  will  like  them.  Lucy  is  monstrous 
pretty,  and  so  good-humored  and  agreeable!  The 
children  are  all  hanging  about  her  already,  as  if 
she  was  an  old  acquaintance.  And  they  both  long 
to  see  you,  of  all  things;  for  they  have  heard  at 
Exeter  that  you  are  the  most  beautiful  creatures  in 
the  world,  and  I  have  told  them  it  is  all  very  true, 
and  a  great  deal  more.  You  will  be  delighted 
with  them,  I  am  sure.  They  have  brought  the 
whole  coach  full  of  playthings  for  the  children. 
How  can  you  be  so  cross  as  not  to  come  ?  Why, 
they  are  your  cousins,  you  know,  after  a  fashion. 
You  are  my  cousins,  and  they  are  my  wife's;  so 
you  must  be  related." 

But  Sir  John  could  not  prevail ;  he  could  only 
obtain  a  promise  of  their  calling  at  the  Park 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


175 


within  a  day  or  two,  and  then  left  them,  in  amaze- 
ment at  their  indifference,  to  walk  home  and  boast 
anew  of  their  attractions  to  the  Miss  Steeles,  as  he 
had  been  already  boasting  of  the  Miss  Steeles  to 
them. 

When  their  promised  visit  to  the  Park  and  con- 
sequent introduction  to  these  young  ladies  took 
place,  they  found  in  the  appearance  of  the  eldest, 
who  was  nearly  thirty,  with  a  very  plain  and  not  a 
sensible  face,  nothing  to  admire ;  but  in  the  other, 
who  was  not  more  than  two  or  three  and  twenty, 
they  acknowledged  considerable  beauty.    Her  fea- 
tures were  pretty,  and  she  had  a  sharp,  quick  eye, 
and  a  smartness  of  air,  which,  though  it  did  not 
give  actual  elegance  or  grace,  gave  distinction  to 
her  person.    Their  manners  were  particularly  civil, 
and  Elinor  soon  allowed  them  credit  for  some  kind 
of  sense  when  she  saw  with  what  constant  and 
judicious  attentions  they  were  making  themselves 
agreeable  to  Lady  Middleton.    With  her  children 
they  were  in  continual  raptures,  extolling  their 
beauty,  courting  their  notice,  and  humoring  all 
their  whims;  and  such  of  their  time  as  could  be 
spared  from  the  importunate  demands  which  this 
politeness  made  on  it  was  spent  in  admiration  of 
whatever  her  Ladyship  was  doing,  if  she  happened 
to  be  doing  anything,  or  in  taking  patterns  of 
some  elegant  new  dress,  in  which  her  appearance 
the  day  before  had  thrown  them  into  unceasing 


176 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


deli  gilt.  Fortunately  for  those  who  pay  their 
court  through  such  foibles,  a  fond  mother,  though 
in  pursuit  of  praise  for  her  children,  the  most 
rapacious  of  human  beings,  is  likewise  the  most 
credulous;  her  demands  are  exorbitant,  but  she 
will  swallow  anything;  and  the  excessive  affection 
and  endurance  of  the  Miss  Steel es  towards  her  off- 
spring were  viewed,  therefore,  by  Lady  Middleton 
without  the  smallest  surprise  or  distrust.  She  saw 
with  maternal  complacency  all  the  impertinent 
encroachments  and  mischievous  tricks  to  which 
her  cousins  submitted.  She  saw  their  sashes  un- 
tied, their  hair  pulled  about  their  ears,  their  work- 
bags  searched,  and  their  knives  and  scissors  stolen 
awa}^,  and  felt  no  doubt  of  its  being  a  reciprocal 
enjoyment.  It  suggested  no  other  surprise  than 
that  Elinor  and  Marianne  should  sit  so  compos- 
edly by,  without  claiming  a  share  in  what  was 
passing. 

^^John  is  in  such  spirits  to-day!''  said  she, 
on  his  taking  Miss  Steele's  pocket-handkerchief 
and  throwing  it  out  of  window,  —  ^^he  is  full  of 
monkey-tricks." 

And  soon  afterwards,  on  the  second  boy's  vio- 
lently pinching  one  of  the  same  lady's  fingers,  she 
fondly  observed,  ^^How  playful  William  is!  " 

^^And  here  is  my  sweet  little  Anna-maria,"  she 
added,  tenderly  caressing  a  little  girl  of  three  years 
old,  who  had  not  made  a  noise  for  the  last  two 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


177 


minutes;  and  she  is  always  so  gentle  and  quiet. 
Never  was  there  such  a  quiet  little  thing!  " 

But  unfortunately,  in  bestowing  these  embraces 
a  pin  in  her  Ladyship's  head-dress  slightly  scratch- 
ing the  child's  neck,  produced  from  this  pattern  of 
gentleness  such  violent  screams  as  could  hardly  be 
outdone  by  any  creature  professedly  noisy.  The 
mother's  consternation  was  excessive,  but  it  could 
not  surpass  the  alarm  of  the  Miss  Steeles;  and 
everything  was  done  by  all  three,  in  so  critical  an 
emergency,  which  affection  could  suggest  as  likely 
to  assuage  the  agonies  of  the  little  sufferer.  She 
was  seated  in  her  mother's  lap,  covered  with  kisses, 
her  wound  bathed  with  lavender-water  by  one  of 
the  Miss  Steeles,  who  was  on  her  knees  to  attend 
her,  and  her  mouth  stuffed  with  sugar-plums  by 
the  other.  With  such  a  reward  for  her  tears,  the 
child  was  too  wise  to  cease  crying.  She  still 
screamed  and  sobbed  lustily,  kicked  her  two 
brothers  for  offering  to  touch  her;  and  all  their 
united  soothings  were  ineffectual,  till  Lady  Mid- 
dleton  luckily  remembering  that  in  a  scene  of 
similar  distress  last  week  some  apricot  marmalade 
had  been  successfully  applied  for  a  bruised  temple, 
the  same  remedy  was  eagerly  proposed  for  this 
unfortunate  scratch,  and  a  slight  intermission  of 
screams  in  the  young  lady  on  hearing  it  gave 
them  reason  to  hope  that  it  would  not  be  rejected. 
She  was  carried  out  of  the  room,  therefore,  in  her 

VOL.  I.  — 12 


178 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


mother's  arms,  in  quest  of  this  medicine;  and  as 
the  two  boys  chose  to  follow,  though  earnestly  en- 
treated by  their  mother  to  stay  behind,  the  four 
young  ladies  were  left  in  a  quietness  which  the 
room  had  not  known  for  many  hours. 

^^Poor  little  creature! ''  said  Miss  Steele,  as  soon 
as  they  were  gone;  ^^it  might  have  been  a  very 
sad  accident." 

Yet  I  hardly  know  how,''  cried  Marianne, 

unless  it  had  been  under  totally  different  cir- 
cumstances. But  this  is  the  usual  way  of  height- 
ening alarm,  where  there  is  nothing  to  be  alarmed 
at  in  reality," 

^^What  a  sweet  woman  Lady  Middleton  is!" 
said  Lucy  Steele. 

Marianne  was  silent.  It  was  impossible  for  her 
to  say  what  she  did  not  feel,  however  trivial  the 
occasion;  and  upon  Elinor,  therefore,  the  whole 
task  of  telling  lies,  when  politeness  required  it, 
always  fell.  She  did  her  best  when  thus  called 
on,  by  speaking  of  Lady  Middleton  with  more 
warmth  than  she  felt,  though  with,  far  less  than 
Miss  Lucy. 

^^And  Sir  John,  too,"  cried  the  elder  sister, 
^^what  a  charming  man  he  is!  " 

Here,  too.  Miss  Dashwood's  commendation,  being 
only  simple  and  just,  came  in  without  any  eclat. 
She  merely  observed  that  he  was  perfectly  good- 
humored  and  friendly. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


179 


And  what  a  charming  little  family  they  have! 
I  never  saw  such  fine  children  in  my  life.  I  de- 
clare I  quite  doat  upon  them  already;  and,  indeed, 
I  am  always  distractedly  fond  of  children.'^ 

'^1  should  guess  so/^  said  Elinor,  with  a  smile, 
^^from  what  I  have  witnessed  this  morning." 

^^I  have  a  notion/'  said  Lucy,  ^^you  think  the 
little  Middletons  rather  too  much  indulged.  Per- 
haps they  may  be  the  outside  of  enough;  but  it  is 
so  natural  in  Lady  Middleton,  and  for  my  part  I 
love  to  see  children  full  of  life  and  spirits;  I  can- 
not bear  them  if  they  are  tame  and  quiet.'' 

^^I  confess,"  replied  Elinor,  ^^that  while  T  am 
at  Barton  Park  I  never  think  of  tame  and  quiet 
children  with  any  abhorrence." 

A  short  pause  succeeded  this  speech,  which  was 
first  broken  by  Miss  Steele,  who  seemed  very  much 
disposed  for  conversation,  and  who  now  said  rather 
abruptly :  And  how  do  you  like  Devonshire,  Miss 
Dashwood?  I  suppose  you  were  very  sorry  to  leave 
Sussex?" 

In  some  surprise  at  the  familiarity  of  this  ques- 
tion, or  at  least  of  the  manner  in  which  it  was 
spoken,  Elinor  replied  that  she  was. 

Norland  is  a  prodigious  beautiful  place,  is  not 
it?  "  added  Miss  Steele. 

^^We  have  heard  Sir  John  admire  it  exces- 
sively," said  Lucy,  who  seemed  to  think  some 
apology  necessary  for  the  freedom  of  her  sister. 


180 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


^^I  think  every  one  must  admire  it/'  replied 
Elinor,  ^^who  ever  saw  the  place;  though  it  is 
not  to  be  supposed  that  any  one  can  estimate  its 
beauties  as  we  do/' 

' '  And  had  you  a  great  many  smart  beaux  there  ? 
I  suppose  you  have  not  so  many  in  this  part  of  the 
world.  For  my  part,  I  think  they  are  a  vast  addi- 
tion always." 

^^But  why  should  you  think/'  said  Lucy,  looking 
ashamed  of  her  sister,  ^^that  there  are  not  as  many 
genteel  young  men  in  Devonshire  as  Sussex?  " 

"  Kay,  my  dear,  I 'm  sure  I  don't  pretend  to  say 
that  there  a'n't.  I 'm  sure  there 's  a  vast  many 
smart  beaux  in  Exeter;  but  you  know,  how  could 
I  tell  what  smart  beaux  there  might  be  about  Nor- 
land; and  I  was  only  afraid  the  Miss  Dash  woods 
might  find  it  dull  at  Barton,  if  they  had  not  so 
many  as  they  used  to  have.  But  perhaps  you 
young  ladies  may  not  care  about  the  beaux,  and 
had  as  lief  be  without  them  as  with  them.  Eor 
m}^  part,  I  think  they  are  vastly  agreeable,  pro- 
vided they  dress  smart  and  behave  civil.  But  I 
can't  bear  to  see  them  dirty  and  nasty.  Kow, 
there 's  Mr.  Eose  at  Exeter,  a  prodigious  smart 
young  man,  quite  a  beau,  clerk  to  Mr.  Simpson, 
you  know,  and  yet  if  you  do  but  meet  him  of  a 
morning,  he  is  not  fit  to  be  seen.  I  suppose  your 
brother  was  quite  a  beau.  Miss  Dashwood,  before 
he  married,  as  he  was  so  rich?  " 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


181 


Upon  my  word/'  replied  Elinor,  I  cannot 
tell  you,  .  for  I  do  not  perfectly  comprehend  the 
meaning  of  the  word.  But  this  I  can  say,  that  if 
he  ever  was  a  beau  before  he  married,  he  is  one 
still,  for  there  is  not  the  smallest  alteration  in 
him.^' 

Oh  dear!  one  never  thinks  of  married  men's 
being  beaux,  — they  have  something  else  to  do." 

^^Lord!  Anne,''  cried  her  sister,  you  can  talk 
of  nothing  but  beaux;  you  will  make  Miss  Dash- 
wood  believe  you  think  of  nothing  else."  And 
then,  to  turn  the  discourse,  she  began  admiring 
the  house  and  the  furniture. 

This  specimen  of  the  Miss  Steeles  was  enough. 
The  vulgar  freedom  and  folly  of  the  elder  left  her 
no  recommendation;  and  as  Elinor  was  not  blinded 
by  the  beauty  or  the  shrewd  look  of  the  younger, 
to  her  want  of  real  elegance  and  artlessness,  she 
left  the  house  without  any  wish  of  knowing  them 
better. 

Not  so  the  Miss  Steeles.  They  came  from  Exeter 
well  provided  with  admiration  for  the  use  of  Sir 
John  Middleton,  his  family,  and  all  his  relations; 
and  no  niggardly  proportion  was  now  dealt  out  to 
his  fair  cousins,  whom  they  declared  to  be  the  most 
beautiful,  elegant,  accomplished,  and  agreeable  girls 
they  had  ever  beheld,  and  with  whom  they  were  par- 
ticularly anxious  to  be  better  acquainted.  And  to 
be  better  acquainted,  therefore,  Elinor  soon  found 


182 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


was  their  inevitable  lot;  for  as  Sir  John  was  en- 
tirely on  the  side  of  the  Miss  Steeles,  their  party 
would  be  too  strong  for  opposition,  and  that  kind 
of  intimacy  must  be  submitted  to,  which  consists 
of  sitting  an  hour  or  two  together  in  the  same  room 
almost  every  day.  Sir  John  could  do  no  more ;  but 
he  did  not  know  that  any  more  was  required :  to  be 
together  was,  in  his  opinion,  to  be  intimate;  and 
while  his  continual  schemes  for  their  meeting  were 
effectual,  he  had  not  a  doubt  of  their  being  estab- 
lished friends. 

To  do  him  justice,  he  did  everything  in  his 
power  to  promote  their  unreserve,  by  making  the 
Miss  Steeles  acquainted  with  whatever  he  knew  or 
supposed  of  his  cousins'  situations  in  the  most 
delicate  particulars ;  and  Elinor  had  not  seen  them 
more  than  twice,  before  the  elder  of  them  wished 
her  joy  on  her  sister's  having  been  so  lucky  as  to 
make  a  conquest  of  a  very  smart  beau  since  she 
came  to  Barton. 

'Twill  be  a  fine  thing  to  have  her  married  so 
young,  to  be  sure,"  said  she;  ^^and  I  hear  he  is 
quite  a  beau,  and  prodigious  handsome.  And  I 
hope  you  may  have  as  good  luck  yourself  soon; 
but,  perhaps,  you  may  have  a  friend  in  the  corner 
already." 

Elinor  could  not  suppose  that  Sir  John  would  be 
more  nice  in  proclaiming  his  suspicions  of  her  re- 
gard for  Edward,  than  he  had  been  with  respect  to 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


183 


Marianne;  indeed  it  was  rather  his  favorite  joke  of 
the  two,  as  being  somewhat  newer  and  more  con- 
jectural; and  since  Edward's  visit,  they  had  never 
dined  together  w^ithout  his  drinking  to  her  best 
affections  with  so  much  significancy  and  so  many 
nods  and  winks  as  to  excite  general  attention. 
The  letter  F  had  been  likewise  invariably  brought 
forward,  and  found  productive  of  such  countless 
jokes  that  its  character,  as  the  wittiest  letter  in 
the  alphabet,  had  been  long  established  with 
Elinor. 

The  Miss  Steeles,  as  she  expected,  had  now  all 
the  benefit  of  these  jokes;  and  in  the  elder  of 
them  they  raised  a  curiosity  to  know  the  name  of 
the  gentleman  alluded  to,  which,  though  often 
impertinently  expressed,  was  perfectly  of  a  piece 
with  her  general  inquisitiveness  into  the  concerns 
of  their  family.  But  Sir  John  did  not  sport  long 
with  the  curiosity  which  he  delighted  to  raise,  for 
he  had  at  least  as  much  pleasure  in  telling  the 
name  as  Miss  Steele  had  in  hearing  it. 

^^His  name  is  Eerrars,'^  said  he,  in  a  very  audi- 
ble whisper;  ^^but  pray  do  not  tell  it,  for  it  a 
great  secret.'' 

^^Eerrars!"  repeated  Miss  Steele;  ^^Mr.  Eer- 
rars  is  the  happy  man,  is  he?  What!  your  sister- 
in-law's  brother.  Miss  Dashwood?  A  very  agreea- 
ble young  man,  to  be  sure;  I  know  him  very  well." 

^^liow  can  you  say  so,  Anne?"  cried  Lucy, 


184 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


who  generally  made  an  amendment  to  all  lier 
sister's  assertions.  Though  we  have  seen  him 
once  or  twice  at  m}^  uncle's,  it  is  rather  too  much 
to  pretend  to  know  him  very  well." 

Elinor  heard  all  this  with  attention  and  sur- 
prise. ^^And  who  was  this  uncle?  Where  did 
he  live?  How  came  they  acquainted?"  She 
wished  very  much  to  have  the  suhject  continued, 
though  she  did  not  choose  to  join  in  it  herself; 
but  nothing  more  of  it  was  said,  and  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life,  she  thought  Mrs.  Jennings  defi- 
cient either  in  curiosity  after  petty  information 
or  in  a  disposition  to  communicate  it.  The  man- 
ner in  which  Miss  Steele  had  spoken  of  Edward 
increased  her  curiosity;  for  it  struck  her  as  being 
rather  ill-natured,  and  suggested  the  suspicioil  of 
that  lady's  knowing,  or  fancying  herself  to  know, 
something  to  his  disadvantage.  But  her  curiosity 
was  unavailing;  for  no  further  notice  was  taken 
of  Mr.  Ferrars's  name  by  Miss  Steele  when  alluded 
to,  or  even  openly  mentioned  by  Sir  John. 


CHAPTEE  XXII. 


Marianne,  who  had  never  much  toleration  for 
anything  like  impertinence,  vulgarity,  inferiority 
of  parts,  or  even  difference  of  taste  from  herself, 
was  at  this  time  particularly  ill-disposed,  from  the 
state  of  her  spirits^  to  be  pleased  with  the  Miss 
Steeles,  or  to  encourage  their  advances;  and  to  the 
invariable  coldness  of  her  behavior  towards  them, 
which  checked  every  endeavor  at  intimacy  on  their 
side,  Elinor  principally  attributed  that  preference 
of  herself  which  soon  became  evident  in  the  man- 
ners of  both,  but  especially  of  Lucy,  who  missed 
no  opportunit}^  of  engaging  her  in  conversation, 
or  of  striving  to  improve  their  acquaintance  by  an 
easy  and  frank  communication  of  her  sentiments. 

Lucy  was  naturally  clever;  her  remarks  were 
often  just  and  amusing,  and  as  a  companion  for 
half  an  hour  Elinor  frequently  found  her  agree- 
able; but  her  powers  had  received  no  aid  from 
education.  She  was  ignorant  and  illiterate;  and 
her  deficiency  of  all  mental  improvement,  her  want 
of  information  in  the  most  common  particulars, 
could  not  be  concealed  from  Miss  Dashwood,  in 
spite  of  her  constant  endeavor  to  appear  to  advan- 


186 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


tage.  Elinor  saw,  and  pitied  her  for  the  neglect 
of  abilities  which  education  might  have  rendered 
so  respectable;  but  she  saw,  with  less  tenderness 
of  feeling,  the  thorough  want  of  delicacy,  of  recti- 
tude, and  integrity  of  mind,  which  her  attentions, 
her  assiduities,  her  flatteries  at  the  Park  betrayed; 
and  she  could  have  no  lasting  satisfaction  in  the 
company  of  a  person  who  joined  insincerity  with 
ignorance,  whose  want  of  instruction  prevented 
their  meeting  in  conversation  on  terms  of  equality, 
and  whose  conduct  towards  others  made  every  show 
of  attention  and  deference  towards  herself  per- 
fectly valueless. 

^^You  will  think  my  question  an  odd  one,  T 
dare  say,"  said  Lucy  to  her  one  day,  as  they  were 
walking  together  from  the  Park  to  the  cottage; 
^'  but,  pra^^,  are  you  personally  acquainted  with 
your  sister-in-law's  mother,  Mrs.  Ferrars? 

Elinor  did  think  the  question  a  very  odd  one; 
and  her  countenance  expressed  it,  as  she  answered 
that  she  had  never  seen  Mrs.  Ferrars. 

^^Indeed!"  replied  Lucy;  ^^T  wonder  at  that, 
for  I  thought  you  must  have  seen  her  at  Norland 
sometimes.  Then,  perhaps,  you  cannot  tell  me 
what  sort  of  a  woman  she  is?" 

^^No, "  returned  Elinor,  cautious  of  giving  her 
real  opinion  of  Edward's  mother,  and  not  very 
desirous  of  satisfying  what  seemed  impertinent 
curiosity;  ^^I  know  nothing  of  her." 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY.  187 


^^I  am  sure  you  think  me  very  strange  for  inquir- 
ing about  her  in  such  a  way,"  said  Lucy,  eying 
Elinor  attentively  as  she  spoke;  but  perhaps 
there  may  be  reasons  —  I  wish  I  might  venture; 
but,  however,  I  hope  you  will  do  me  the  justice  of 
believing  that  I  do  not  mean  to  be  impertinent." 

Elinor  made  her  a  civil  reply,  and  they  walked 
on  for  a  few  minutes  in  silence.  It  was  broken  by 
Lucy,  who  renewed  the  subject  again  by  saying, 
with  some  hesitation,  — 

^^I  cannot  bear  to  have  you  think  me  imperti- 
nently curious.  I  am  sure  I  would  rather  do  any- 
thing in  the  world  than  be  thought  so  by  a  person 
whose  good  opinion  is  so  well  worth  having  as 
yours.  And  I  am  sure  I  should  not  have  the 
smallest  fear  of  trusting  you;  indeed,  I  should  be 
very  glad  of  your  advice  how  to  manage  in  such 
an  uncomfortable  situation  as  I  am;  but,  how^ever, 
there  is  no  occasion  to  trouble  yo2i.  I  am  sorry 
you  do  not  happen  to  know  Mrs.  Ferrars." 

^^1  am  sorry  I  do  ^o^, "  said  Elinor,  in  great 
astonishment,  ^^if  it  could  be  of  any  use  to  you 
to  know  my  opinion  of  her.  But  really  I  never 
understood  that  you  were  at  all  connected  with 
that  family,  and  therefore  I  am  a  little  surprised, 
I  confess,  at  so  serious  an  inquiry  into  her 
character." 

^^I  dare  say  you  are,  and  I  am  sure  I  do  not  at 
all  wonder  at  it.    But  if  I  dared  tell  you  all,  you 


188 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


would  not  be  so  mucli  surprised.  Mrs.  T^'errars  is 
certainly  nothing  to  me  at  present;  but  the  time 
may  come  —  how  soon  it  will  come  must  depend 
upon  herself  —  when  we  may  be  very  intimately 
connected. " 

She  looked  down  as  she  said  this,  amiably  bash- 
ful, with  only  one  side  glance  at  her  companion  to 
observe  its  effect  on  her. 

Good  heavens !  "  cried  Elinor,  ^^what  do  you 
mean?  Are  you  acquainted  with  Mr.  Eobert  Fer- 
rars?  Can  you  be?  "  And  she  did  not  feel  much 
delighted  with  the  idea  of  such  a  sister-in-law. 

No,"  replied  Lucy,  ^^not  to  Mr.  Robert  Fer- 
rars, — I  never  saw  him  in  my  life:  but, fixing 
her  eyes  upon  Elinor,  ^^to  his  elder  brother." 

What  felt  Elinor  at  that  moment?  Astonish- 
ment, that  would  have  been  as  painful  as  it  was 
strong,  had  not  an  immediate  disbelief  of  the 
assertion  attended  it.  She  turned  towards  Lucy 
in  silent  amazement,  unable  to  divine  the  reason  or 
object  of  such  a  declaration;  and  though  her  com- 
plexion varied,  she  stood  firm  in  incredulity,  and 
felt  in  no  danger  of  an  hysterical  fit  or  a  swoon. 

You  may  well  be  surprised,"  continued  Lucy; 
^^for,  to  be  sure,  you  could  have  had  no  idea  of  it 
before,  for  I  dare  say  he  never  dropped  the  small- 
est hint  of  it  to  you  or  any  of  your  family;  because 
it  was  always  meant  to  be  a  great  secret,  and  I 
am  sure  has  been  faithfully  kept  so  by  me  to  this 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


189 


hour,  Not  a  soul  of  all  my  relations  know  of  it 
but  Anne,  and  I  never  should  have  mentioned  it 
to  you,  if  I  had  not  felt  the  greatest  dependence 
in  the  world  upon  your  secrecy;  and  I  really 
thought  my  behavior  in  asking  so  many  questions 
about  Mrs.  Ferrars  must  seem  so  odd  that  it  ought 
to  be  explained.  And  I  do  not  think  Mr.  Ferrars 
can  be  displeased,  when  he  knows  I  have  trusted 
you,  because  I  know  he  has  the  highest  opinion  in 
the  world  of  all  your  family,  and  looks  upon  your- 
self and  the  other  Miss  Dashwoods  quite  as  his 
own  sisters.^'    She  paused. 

Elinor  for  a  few  moments  remained  silent.  Her 
astonishment  at  what  she  heard  was  at  first  too 
great  for  words;  but  at  length  forcing  herself  to 
speak,  and  to  speak  cautiously,  she  said,  with  a 
calmness  of  manner  which  tolerably  well  concealed 
heit  surprise  and  solicitude,  ^^May  I  ask  if  your 
engagement  is  of  long  standing?" 

We  have  been  engaged  these  four  years. 

^^Four  years ! 

^^Yes." 

Elinor,  though  greatly  shocked,  still  felt  unable 
to  believe  it. 

^^I  did  not  know,"  said  she,  ^^that  you  were 
even  acquainted  till  the  other  day." 

Our  acquaintance,  however,  is  of  many  years' 
date.  He  was  under  my  uncle's  care,  you  know,  a 
considerable  while." 


190 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


Your  uncle!  " 

^^Yes;  Mr.  Pratt.  Did  you  never  hear  him 
talk  of  Mr.  Pratt? 

^^I  think  I  have/'  replied  Elinor,  with  an  exer- 
tion of  spirits  which  increased  with  her  increase 
of  emotion. 

"  He  was  four  years  with  my  uncle,  who  lives 
at  Longstaple,  near  Plymouth,  It  was  there  our 
acquaintance  hegun,  for  my  sister  and  me  was 
often  staying  with  my  uncle,  and  it  was  there  our 
engagement  was  formed,  though  not  till  a  year 
after  he  had  quitted  as  a  pupil ;  but  he  was  almost 
always  with  us  afterwards.  I  was  very  unwilling 
to  enter  into  it,  as  you  may  imagine,  without  the 
knowledge  and  approbation  of  his  mother;  but  I 
was  too  young,  and  loved  him  too  well,  to  be  so 
prudent  as  I  ought  to  have  been.  Though  you  do 
not  know  him  so  well  as  me.  Miss  Dashwood,  you 
must  have  seen  enough  of  him  to  be  sensible  he  is 
very  capable  of  making  a  woman  sincerely  attached 
to  him.'^ 

Certainly, answered  Elinor,  without  know- 
ing what  she  said;  but  after  a  moment's  reflection, 
she  added,  with  revived  security  of  Edward's  honor 
and  love,  and  her  companion's  falsehood:  En- 
gaged to  Mr.  Edward  Ferrars !  I  confess  myself  so 
totally  surprised  at  what  you  tell  me,  that  really  — 
I  beg  your  pardon;  but  surely  there  must  be  some 
mistake  of  person  or  name.  We  cannot  mean  the 
same  Mr.  Ferrars." 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


191 


'We  can  mean  no  other/'  cried  Liicy^  smiling. 
<'Mr.  Edward  Ferrars^  the  eldest  son  of  Mrs.  Fer- 
rars  of  Park  Street^  and  brother  of  3^our  sister-in- 
law,  Mrs.  John  Dashwood,  is  the  person  I  mean; 
you  must  allow  that  /  am  not  likely  to  be  deceived 
as  to  the  name  of  the  man  on  whom  all  my  happi- 
ness depends.^' 

''It  is  strange/'  replied  Elinor,  in  a  most  pain- 
ful perplexity,  "that  I  should  never  have  heard 
him  even  mention  your  name." 

"No;  considering  our  situation,  it  was  not 
strange.  Our  first  care  has  been  to  keep  the  mat- 
ter secret.  You  knew  nothing  of  me  or  my  fam- 
ily, and,  therefore,  there  could  be  no  occasion  for 
ever  mentioning  my  name  to  you;  and  as  he  was 
always  particularly  afraid  of  his  sister's  suspecting 
anything,  that  was  reason  enough  for  his  not  men- 
tioning it." 

She  was  silent.  Elinor's  security  sunk;  but 
her  self-command  did  not  sink  with  it. 

"Four  years  you  have  been  engaged,"  said  she, 
with  a  firm  voice. 

"Yes;  and  Heaven  knows  how  much  longer  we 
may  have  to  wait.  Poor  Edward!  It  puts  him 
quite  out  of  heart."  Then  taking  a  small  minia- 
ture from  her  pocket,  she  added:  "  To  prevent  the 
possibility  of  mistake,  be  so  good  as  to  look  at  this 
face.  It  does  not  do  him  justice,  to  be  sure,  but 
yet  I  think  you  cannot  be  deceived  as  to  the  person 


192 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


it  was  drew  for.  I  have  had  it  above  these  three 
years.'' 

She  put  it  into  her  hands  as  she  spoke;  and 
when  Elinor  saw  the  painting,  whatever  other 
doubts  her  fear  of  a  too  hasty  decision,  or  her  wish 
of  detecting  falsehood,  might  suffer  to  linger  in 
her  mind,  she  could  have  none  of  its  being  Ed- 
ward's face.  She  returned  it  almost  instantly, 
acknowledging  the  likeness. 

^^I  have  never  been  able,"  continued  Lucy,  ^^to 
give  him  my  picture  in  return,  which  I  am  very 
much  vexed  at,  for  he  has  been  always  so  anxious 
to  get  it!  But  I  am  determined  to  sit  for  it  the 
very  first  opportunity." 

^^You  are  quite  in  the  right,"  replied  Elinor, 
calmly.  They  then  proceeded  a  few  paces  in  si- 
lence.   Lucy  spoke  first. 

^^I  am  sure,"  said  she,  "  I  have  no  doubt  in  the 
world  of  your  faithfully  keeping  this  secret,  be- 
cause you  must  know  of  what  importance  it  is  to 
us,  not  to  have  it  reach  his  mother;  for  she  would 
never  approve  of  it,  I  dare  say.  I  shall  have  no 
fortune,  and  I  fancy  she  is  an  exceeding  proud 
woman. " 

"  I  certainly  did  not  seek  your  confidence,"  said 
Elinor;  but  you  do  me  no  more  than  justice  in 
imagining  that  I  may  be  depended  on.  Your 
secret  is  safe  with  me;  but  pardon  me  if  I  ex- 
press some  surprise  at  so  unnecessary  a  communi- 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


193 


cation.  You  must  at  least  have  felt  that  my 
being  acquainted  with  it  could  not  add  to  its 
safety.^' 

As  she  said  this,  she  looked  earnestly  at  Lucy, 
hoping  to  discover  something  in  her  countenance, 
perhaps  the  falsehood  of  the  greatest  part  of  what 
she  had  been  saying;  but  Lucy's  countenance  suf- 
fered no  change. 

^^I  was  afraid  you  would  think  I  was  taking  a 
great  liberty  with  you/'  said  she,  ^^in  telling  you 
all  this.  I  have  not  known  you  long,  to  be  sure, 
personally  at  least,  but  I  have  known  you  and  all 
your  family  by  description  a  great  while;  and  as 
soon  as  I  saw  you,  I  felt  almost  as  if  you  was  an 
old  acquaintance.  Besides,  in  the  present  case,  I 
really  thought  some  explanation  was  due  to  you, 
after  my  making  such  particular  inquiries  about 
Edward's  mother;  and  I  am  so  unfortunate  that  I 
have  not  a  creature  whose  advice  I  can  ask.  Anue 
is  the  only  person  that  knows  of  it,  and  she  has  no 
judgment  at  all;  indeed,  she  does  me  a  great  deal 
more  harm  than  good,  for  I  am  in  constant  fear  of 
her  betraying  me.  She  does  not  know  how  to  hold 
her  tongue,  as  you  must  perceive;  and  I  am  sure  I 
was  in  the  greatest  fright  in  the  world  t'  other  day, 
when  Edward's  name  was  mentioned  by  Sir  John, 
lest  she  should  out  with  it  all.  You  can't  think 
how  much  I  go  through  in  my  mind  from  it  alto- 
gether.   I  only  wonder  that  I  am  alive,  after  what 

VOL.  I.  — 13 


194 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


I  have  suffered  for  Edward's  sake  these  last  four 
years.  Everything  in  such  suspense  and  uncer- 
tainty; and  seeing  him  so  seldom,  — we  can  hardly 
meet  above  twice  a  year,  I  am  sure  I  wonder  my 
heart  is  not  quite  broke." 

Here  she  took  out  her  handkerchief;  but  Elinor 
did  not  feel  very  compassionate. 

Sometimes,"  continued  Lucy,  after  wiping 
her  eyes,  ^^I  think  whether  it  would  not  be  better 
for  us  both  to  break  off  the  matter  entirely."  As 
she  said  this,  she  looked  directly  at  her  companion. 

But  then,  at  other  times,  I  have  not  resolution 
enough  for  it.  I  cannot  bear  the  thoughts  of  mak- 
ing him  so  miserable  as  I  know  the  very  mention 
of  such  a  thing  would  do.  And  on  my  own  account 
too,  — so  dear  as  he  is  to  me,  — I  don't  think  I 
could  be  equal  to  it.  What  would  you  advise  me 
to  do  in  such  a  case,  Miss  Dashwood?  What  would 
you  do  yourself  ?  " 

Pardon  me,"  replied  Elinor,  startled  by  the 
question;  ^'but  I  can  give  you  no  advice  under 
such  circumstances.  Your  own  judgment  must 
direct  you." 

To  be  sure,"  continued  Lucy,  after  a  few  min- 
utes' silence  on  both  sides,  ^'  his  mother  must  pro- 
vide for  him  some  time  or  other;  but  poor  Edward 
is  so  cast  down  about  it!  Did  not  you  think  him 
dreadful  low-spirited  when  he  was  at  Barton?  He 
was  so  miserable  when  he  left  us  at  Longstaple,  to 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


195 


go  to  you,  that  I  was  afraid  you  would  think  him 
quite  ill.'' 

Did  he  come  from  your  uncle's,  then,  when  he 
visited  us  ?  " 

Oh,  yes;  he  had  been  staying  a  fortnight  with 
us.    Did  you  think  he  came  directly  from  town  ?  " 

^^No,"  replied  Elinor,  most  feelingly  sensible 
of  every  fresh  circumstance  in  favor  of  Lucy's  ve- 
racity; ^^I  remember  he  told  us  that  he  had  been 
staying  a  fortnight  with  some  friends  near  Ply- 
mouth." She  remembered,  too,  her  own  surprise 
at  the  time,  at  his  mentioning  nothing  further  of 
those  friends,  at  his  total  silence  with  respect 
even  to  their  names. 

*^  Did  not  you  think  him  sadly  out  of  spirits  ?  " 
repeated  Lucy. 

We  did,  indeed,  particularly  so  when  he  first 
arrived." 

^^I  begged  him  to  exert  himself,  for  fear  you 
should  suspect  what  was  the  matter;  but  it  made 
him  so  melancholy,  not  being  able  to  stay  more 
tlian  a  fortnight  with  us,  and  seeing  me  so  much 
affected.  Poor  fellow!  I  am  afraid  it  is  just  the 
same  with  him  now;  for  he  writes  in  wretched 
spirits.  I  heard  from  him  just  before  I  left  Exe- 
ter; "  taking  a  letter  from  her  pocket,  and  care- 
lessly showing  the  direction  to  Elinor.  ^^You 
know  his  hand,  I  dare  say,  —  a  charming  one  it  is; 
but  that  is  not  written  so  well  as  usual.    He  was 


196 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


tired,  I  dare  say,  for  he  bad  just  filled  the  sheet  to 
me  as  full  as  possible.'' 

Elinor  saw  that  it  was  bis  hand,  and  she  could 
doubt  no  longer.  The  picture,  she  had  allowed 
herself  to  believe,  might  have  been  accidentally 
obtained;  it  might  not  have  been  Edward's  gift; 
but  a  correspondence  between  them  by  letter  could 
subsist  only  under  a  positive  engagement,  could  be 
authorized  by  nothing  else.  For  a  few  moments  she 
was  almost  overcome,  —  her  heart  sunk  within  her, 
and  she  could  hardly  stand;  but  exertion  was  in- 
dispensably necessary;  and  she  struggled  so  reso- 
lutely against  the  oppression  of  her  feelings 
that  her  success  was  speedy  and  for  the  time 
complete. 

Writing  to  each  other,"  said  Lucy,  returning 
the  letter  into  her  pocket,  "  is  the  only  comfort  we 
have  in  such  long  separations.  Yes^  /  have  one 
other  comfort  in  his  picture;  but  poor  Edward  has 
not  even  that.  If  he  had  but  my  picture,  he  says  he 
should  be  easy.  I  gave  him  a  lock  of  my  hair  set 
in  a  ring  when  he  was  at  Longstaple  last,  and  that 
was  some  comfort  to  him,  he  said,  but  not  equal 
to  a  picture.  Perhaps  you  might  notice  the  ring 
when  you  saw  him  ?  " 

^^I  did,^^  said  Elinor,  with  a  composure  of  voice, 
under  v^hich  was  concealed  an  emotion  and  distress 
beyond  anything  she  had  ever  felt  before.  She 
was  mortified,  shocked,  confounded. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY,  197 


Fortunately  for  her,  they  had  now  reached  the 
cottage,  and  the  conversation  could  he  continued 
no  further.  After  sitting  with  them  a  few 
minutes,  the  Miss  Steeles  returned  to  the  Park, 
and  Elinor  was  then  at  liberty  to  think  and  be 
wretched. 


CHAPTEE  XXIII. 


However  small  Elinor's  general  dependence  on 
Lucy's  veracity  might  be,  it  was  impossible  for 
her,  on  serious  reflection,  to  suspect  it  in  the 
present  case,  where  no  temptation  could  be 
answerable  to  the  folly  of  inventing  a  falsehood  of 
such  a  description.  What  Lucy  had  asserted  to  be 
true,  therefore,  Elinor  could  not,  dared  not,  longer 
doubt;  supported  as  it  was,  too,  on  every  side  by 
such  probabilities  and  proofs,  and  contradicted  by 
nothing  but  her  own  wishes.  Their  opportunity 
of  acquaintance  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Pratt  was  a 
foundation  for  the  rest,  at  once  indisputable  and 
alarming;  and  Edward's  visit  near  Plymouth,  his 
melancholy  state  of  mind,  his  dissatisfaction  at 
his  own  prospects,  his  uncertain  behavior  towards 
herself,  the  intimate  knowledge  of  the  Miss 
Steeles  as  to  Norland  and  their  family  connec- 
tions, which  had  often  surprised  her,  the  picture, 
the  letter,  the  ring,  formed  altogether  such  a  body 
of  evidence  as  overcame  every  fear  of  condemning 
him  unfairly,  and  established  as  a  fact,  which  no 
partiality  could  set  aside,  his  ill-treatment  of  her- 
self.   Her  resentment  of  such  behavior,  her  in- 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY.  199 


dignation  at  having  been  its  dupe,  for  a  short  time 
made  her  feel  only  for  herself;  but  other  ideas, 
other  considerations  soon  arose.  Had  Edward 
been  intentionally  deceiving  her?  Had  he  feigned 
a  regard  for  her  which  he  did  not  feel?  Was  his 
engagement  to  Lucy  an  engagement  of  the  heart? 
No;  whatever  it  might  once  have  been,  she  could 
not  believe  it  snch  at  present.  His  affection  was 
all  her  own.  She  could  not  be  deceived  in  that. 
Her  mother,  sisters,  Fanny,  all  had  been  conscious 
of  his  regard  for  her  at  Norland;  it  was  not  an 
illusion  of  her  own  vanity.  He  certainly  loved 
her.  What  a  softener  of  the  heart  was  this  per- 
suasion! How  much  could  it  not  tempt  her  to 
forgive !  He  had  been  blamable,  highly  blamable, 
in  remaining  at  Norland  after  he  first  felt  her  in* 
fluence  over  him  to  be  more  than  it  ought  to  be* 
In  that  he  could  not  be  defended;  but  if  he  had 
injured  her,  how  much  more  had  he  injured  him- 
self; if  her  case  were  pitiable,  his  was  hopeless. 
His  imprudence  had  made  her  miserable  for  a 
while;  but  it  seemed  to  have  deprived  himself  of 
all  chance  of  ever  being  otherwise.  She  might  in 
time  regain  tranquillity ;  but  he  —  what  had  he  to 
look  forward  to?  Could  he  ever  be  tolerably  happy 
with  Lucy  Steele?  Could  he,  were  his  affection  for 
herself  out  of  the  question,  with  his  integrity,  his 
delicacy,  and  well-informed  mind,  be  satisfied  with 
a  wife  like  her,  — illiterate,  artful,  and  selfish? 


200 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


The  youthful  infatuation  of  nineteen  would 
naturally  blind  him  to  everything  but  her  beauty 
and  good  nature ;  but  the  four  succeeding  years  — 
years  which,  if  rationally  spent,  give  such  im- 
provement to  the  understanding  —  must  have 
opened  his  eyes  to  her  defects  of  education,  while 
the  same  period  of  time,  spent  on  her  side  in  inferior 
society  and  more  frivolous  pursuits,  had  perhaps 
robbed  her  of  that  simplicity  which  might  once 
have  given  an  interesting  character  to  her  beauty. 

If  in  the  supposition  of  his  seeking  to  marry 
herself,  his  difficulties  from  his  mother  had  seemed 
great,  how  much  greater  were  they  now  likely  to 
be  when  the  object  of  his  engagement  was  un- 
doubtedly inferior  in  connections,  and  probably 
inferior  in  fortune,  to  herself!  These  difficulties, 
indeed,  with  a  heart  so  alienated  from  Lucy, 
might  not  press  very  hard  upon  his  patience;  but 
melancholy  was  the  state  of  the  person  by  whom 
the  expectation  of  family  opposition  and  unkind- 
ness  could  be  felt  as  a  relief! 

As  these  considerations  occurred  to  her  in  pain- 
ful succession,  she  wept  for  him  more  than  for 
herself.  Supported  by  the  conviction  of  having 
done  nothing  to  merit  her  present  unhappiness, 
and  consoled  by  the  belief  that  Edward  had  done 
nothing  to  forfeit  her  esteem,  she  thought  she  could 
even  now,  under  the  first  smart  of  the  heavy  blow, 
command  herself  enough  to  guard  every  suspicion 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


201 


of  the  truth  from  her  mother  and  sisters.  And  so 
well  was  she  able  to  answer  her  own  expectations, 
that  when  she  joined  them  at  dinner,  only  two 
hours  after  she  had  first  suffered  the  extinction  of 
all  her  dearest  hopes,  no  one  would  have  sup- 
posed, from  the  appearance  of  the  sisters,  that 
Elinor  was  mourning  in  secret  over  obstacles 
which  must  divide  her  forever  from  the  object  of 
her  love,  and  that  Marianne  was  internally  dwell- 
ing on  the  perfections  of  a  man  of  whose  whole 
heart  she  felt  thoroughly  possessed,  and  whom  she 
expected  to  see  in  every  carriage  which  drove  near 
their  house. 

The  necessity  of  concealing  from  her  mother  and 
Marianne  what  had  been  intrusted  in  confidence  to 
herself,  though  it  obliged  her  to  unceasing  exer- 
tion, was  no  aggravation  of  Elinor's  distress.  On 
the  contrary,  it  was  a  relief  to  her  to  be  spared 
the  communication  of  what  would  give  such  afflic- 
tion to  them,  and  to  be  saved  likewise  from  hear- 
ing that  condemnation  of  Edward  which  would 
probably  flow  from  the  excess  of  their  partial  affec- 
tion for  herself,  and  which  was  more  than  she  felt 
equal  to  support. 

From  their  counsel  or  their  conversation  she 
knew  she  could  receive  no  assistance ;  their  tender- 
ness and  sorrow  must  add  to  her  distress,  while 
her  self-command  would  neither  receive  encourage- 
ment from  their  example  nor  from  their  praise. 


202 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY^ 


She  was  stronger  alone;  and  her  own  good  sense 
so  well  supported  her  that  her  firmness  was  as 
unshaken,  her  appearance  of  cheerfulness  as  inva- 
riable, as,  with  regrets  so  poignant  and  so  fresh, 
it  was  possible  for  them  to  be. 

Much  as  she  had  suffered  from  her  first  conver- 
sation with  Lucy  on  the  subject,  she  soon  felt  an 
earnest  wish  of  renewing  it;  and  this  for  more 
reasons  than  one.  She  wanted  to  hear  many  par- 
ticulars of  their  engagement  repeated  again;  she 
wanted  more  clearly  to  understand  what  Lucy 
really  felt  for  Edward,  whether  there  were  any  sin- 
cerity in  her  declaration  of  tender  regard  for  him; 
and  she  particularly  wanted  to  convince  Lucy,  by 
her  readiness  to  enter  on  the  matter  again,  and 
her  calmness  in  conversing  on  it,  that  she  was  no* 
otherwise  interested  in  it  than  as  a  friend,  which 
she  very  much  feared  her  involuntary  agitation  in 
their  morning  discourse  must  have  left  at  least 
doubtful.  That  Lucy  was  disposed  to  be  jealous  of 
her  appeared  very  probable :  it  was  plain  that  Ed- 
ward had  always  spoken  highly  in  her  praise,  not 
merely  from  Lucy's  assertion,  but  from  her  ven- 
turing to  trust  her  on  so  short  a  personal  acquaint- 
ance with  a  secret  so  confessedly  and  evidently 
important.  And  even  Sir  John's  joking  intelli- 
gence must  have  had  some  weight.  But  indeed, 
while  Elinor  remained  so  well  assured  within  her- 
self of  being  really  beloved  by  Edward,  it  required 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


203 


no  other  consideration  of  probabilities  to  make  it 
natural  that  Lucy  should  be  jealous;  and  that  she 
was  so,  her  very  confidence  was  a  proof.  What 
other  reason  for  the  disclosure  of  the  affair  could 
there  be,  but  that  Elinor  might  be  informed  by  it 
of  Lucy's  superior  claims  on  Edward,  and  be  taught 
to  avoid  him  in  future?  She  had  little  difficulty 
in  understanding  thus  much  of  her  rival's  inten- 
tions; and  while  she  w^as  firmly  resolved  to  act  by 
her  as  every  principle  of  honor  and  honest}^  di- 
rected, to  combat  her  own  affection  for  Edward, 
and  to  see  him  as  little  as  possible,  she  could  not 
deny  herself  the  comfort  of  endeavoring  to  con- 
vince Lucy  that  her  heart  was  unwounded.  And 
as  she  could  now  have  nothing  more  painful  to 
hear  on  the  subject  than  had  already  been  told,  she 
did  not  mistrust  her  own  ability  of  going  through 
a  repetition  of  particulars  with  composure. 

But  it  was  not  immediately  that  an  opportunity 
of  doing  so  could  be  commanded,  though  Lucy  was 
as  well  disposed  as  herself  to  take  advantage  of 
any  that  occurred;  for  the  weather  was  not  often 
fine  enough  to  allow  of  their  joining  in  a  w^alk, 
where  they  might  most  easily  separate  themselves 
from  the  others;  and  though  they  met  at  least 
every  other  evening  either  at  the  Park  or  cottage, 
and  chiefly  at  the  former,  they  could  not  be  sup- 
posed to  meet  for  the  sake  of  conversation.  Such 
a  thought  would  never  enter  either  Sir  John  or 


204 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


Lady  Middleton's  head;  and  therefore  very  little 
leisure  was  ever  given  for  general  chat,  and  none 
at  all  for  particular  discourse.  They  met  for  the 
sake  of  eating,  drinking,  and  laughing  together, 
playing  at  cards,  or  consequences,  or  any  other 
game  that  was  sufficiently  noisy. 

One  or  two  meetings  of  this  kind  had  taken 
place  without  affording  Elinor  any  chance  of 
engaging  Lucy  in  private,  when  Sir  John  called  at 
the  cottage  one  morning,  to  beg,  in  the  name  of 
charity,  that  they  would  all  dine  with  Lady  Mid- 
dleton  that  day,  as  he  was  obliged  to  attend  the 
club  at  Exeter,  and  she  would  otherwise  be  quite 
alone,  except  her  mother  and  the  two  Miss  Steeles. 
Elinor,  who  foresaw  a  fairer  opening  for  the  point 
she  had  in  view  in  such  a  party  as  this  was  likely* 
to  be,  more  at  liberty  among  themselves  under  the 
tranquil  and  well-bred  direction  of  Lady  Middle- 
ton  than  when  her  husband  united  them  together 
in  one  noisy  purpose,  immediately  accepted  the 
invitation;  Margaret,  with  her  mother's  permis- 
sion, was  equally  compliant;  and  Marianne,  though 
always  unwilling  to  join  any  of  their  parties,  was 
persuaded  by  her  mother,  who  could  not  bear  to 
have  her  seclude  herself  from  any  chance  of  amuse- 
ment, to  go  likewise. 

The  young  ladies  went,  and  Lady  Middleton 
w^as  happily  preserved  from  the  frightful  solitude 
which  had  threatened  her.    The  insipidity  of  the 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY.  205 


meeting  was  exactly  such  as  Elinor  had  expected: 
it  produced  not  one  novelty  of  thought  or  expres- 
sion; and  nothing  could  be  less  interesting  than 
the  whole  of  their  discourse  both  in  the  dining- 
parlor  and  drawing-room:  to  the  latter,  the  chil- 
dren accompanied  them;  and  while  they  remained 
there,  she  was  too  well  convinced  of  the  impossi- 
bility of  engaging  Lucy^s  attention  to  attempt  it. 
They  quitted  it  only  with  the  removal  of  the  tea- 
things.  The  card-table  was  then  placed;  and 
Elinor  began  to  wonder  at  herself  for  having  ever 
entertained  a  hope  of  finding  time  for  conversation 
at  the  Park.  They  all  rose  up  in  preparation  for  a 
round  game. 

^^I  am  glad,"  said  Lady  Middleton  to  Lucy, 
^^you  are  not  going  to  finish  poor  little  Anna- 
maria's  basket  this  evening;  for  I  am  sure  it  must 
hurt  your  eyes  to  work  filigree  by  candlelight. 
And  we  will  make  the  dear  little  love  some  amends 
for  her  disappointment  to-morrow,  and  then  I  hope 
she  will  not  much  mind  it." 

This  hint  was  enough.  Lucy  recollected  herself 
instantly,  and  replied :  "  Indeed  you  are  very  much 
mistaken.  Lady  Middleton;  I  am  only  waiting  to 
know  whether  you  can  make  your  party  without 
me,  or  I  should  have  been  at  my  filigree  already. 
I  would  not  disappoint  the  little  angel  for  all  the 
world;  and  if  you  want  me  at  the  card- table  now, 
I  am  resolved  to  finish  the  basket  after  supper." 


206  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


^^You  are  very  good, — I  hope  it  won't  liiirt 
your  eyes.  Will  you  ring  the  bell  for  some 
working  candles?  My  poor  little  girl  would  be 
sadly  disappointed,  I  know,  if  the  basket  was  not 
finished  to-morrow;  for  though  I  told  her  it  cer- 
tainly would  not,  I  am  sure  she  depends  upon 
having  it  done.'' 

Lucy  directly  drew  her  work-table  near  her,  and 
reseated  herself  with  an  alacrity  and  cheerfulness 
which  seemed  to  infer  that  she  could  taste  no 
greater  delight  than  in  making  a  filigree  basket 
for  a  spoiled  child. 

Lady  Middleton  proposed  a  rubber  of  cassino  to 
the  others.  ISTo  one  made  any  objection  but  Mari- 
anne, who  with  her  usual  inattention  to  the  forms 
of  general  civility  exclaimed:  ^^Your  Lad3'Shi]3' 
will  have  the  goodness  to  excuse  me,  —  you  know  I 
detest  cards.  I  shall  go  to  the  pianoforte;  I  have 
not  touched  it  since  it  was  tuned."  And  without 
further  ceremony  she  turned  away  and  walked  to 
the  instrument. 

Lady  Middleton  looked  as  if  she  thanked  Heaven 
that  she  had  never  made  so  rude  a  speech. 

Marianne  can  never  keep  long  from  that  in- 
strument, you  know,  ma'am,''  said  Elinor,  endeav- 
oring to  smooth  away  the  offence;  ^^and  I  do  not 
much  wonder  at  it;  for  it  is  the  very  best  toned 
pianoforte  I  ever  heard." 

The  remaining  five  were  now  to  draw  their  cards. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


207 


Perhaps/'  continued  Elinor,  it  I  sliould 
happen  to  cut  out,  I  may  be  of  some  use  to  Miss 
Lucy  Steele,  in  rolling  her  papers  for  her;  and 
there  is  so  much  still  to  be  done  to  the  basket, 
that  it  must  be  impossible,  I  think,  for  her  labor, 
singly,  to  finish  it  this  evening.  I  should  like 
the  work  exceedingly,  if  she  would  allow  me  a 
share  in  it.'' 

Indeed  I  shall  be  very  much  obliged  to  you 
for  your  help,"  cried  Lucy,  '^forl  find  there  is 
more  to  be  done  to  it  than  I  thought  there  was; 
and  it  would  be  a  shocking  thing  to  disappoint 
dear  Anna-maria  after  all." 

Oh,  that  would  be  terrible,  indeed!  "  said  Miss 
Steele.     ^^Dear  little  soul,  how  I  do  love  her!  " 

You  are  very  kind,"  said  Lad}^  Middleton  to 
Elinor;  ^^and  as  you  really  like  the  work,  perhaps 
you  will  be  as  well  pleased  not  to  cut  in  till  an- 
other rubber,  or  will  you  take  your  chance  now?" 

Elinor  joyfully  profited  by  the  first  of  these  pro- 
posals, and  thus,  by  a  little  of  that  address  which 
Marianne  could  never  condescend  to  practise,  gained 
her  own  end,  and  pleased  Lady  Middleton  at  the 
same  time.  Lucy  made  room  for  her  with  ready  at- 
tention ;  and  the  two  fair  rivals  were  thus  seated, 
side  by  side,  at  the  same  table,  and  with  the  ut- 
most harmony,  engaged  in  forwarding  the  same 
work.  The  pianoforte,  at  which  Marianne,  wrapped 
up  in  her  own  music  and  her  own  thoughts,  had 


208 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


hy  this  time  forgotten  that  anybody  was  in  the 
room  besides  herself,  was  luckily  so  near  them 
that  Miss  Dashwood  now  judged  she  might  safely, 
under  the  shelter  of  its  noise,  introduce  the  in- 
teresting subject  without  any  risk  of  being  heard 
at  the  card-table. 


CHAPTEE  XXIV. 


Ix  a  firm  though  cautious  tone,  Elinor  thus 
began : — 

"  I  should  be  undeserving  of  the  confidence  you 
have  honored  me  with,  if  I  felt  no  desire  for  its 
continuance,  or  no  further  curiosity  on  its  subject. 
I  will  not  apologize,  therefore,  for  bringing  it  for- 
ward again." 

"  Thank  you,"  cried  Lucy,  warmly,  ^^for  break- 
ing the  ice :  you  have  set  my  heart  at  ease  by  it ; 
for  I  was,  somehow  or  other,  afraid  I  had  offended 
you  by  what  I  told  you  that  Monday." 

Offended  me!  How  could  you  suppose  so? 
Believe  me,"  and  Elinor  spoke  it  with  the  truest 
sincerity,  nothing  could  be  further  from  my  in- 
tention than  to  give  you  such  an  idea.  Could  you 
have  a  motive  for  the  trust,  that  was  not  honorable 
and  flattering  to  me?  " 

^^And  yet,  I  do  assure  you,"  replied  Lucy,  her 
little  sharp  eyes  full  of  meaning,  ' '  there  seemed  to 
me  to  be  a  coldness  and  displeasure  in  your  man- 
ner that  made  me  quite  uncomfortable.  I  felt 
sure  that  you  was  angry  w4th  mej  and  have  been 

VOL.  I.  — 14 


210 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


quarrelling  with  myself  ever  since  for  having  took 
such  a  liberty  as  to  trouble  you  with  my  affairs. 
But  I  am  very  glad  to  find  it  was  only  my  own 
fancy,  and  that  you  do  not  really  blame  me.  If 
you  knew  what  a  consolation  it  was  to  me  to  relieve 
my  heart,  by  speaking  to  you  of  what  I  am  always 
thinking  of  every  moment  of  my  life,  your  compas- 
sion would  make  you  overlook  everything  else,  I 
am  sure." 

"  Indeed,  I  can  easily  believe  that  it  was  a  very 
great  relief  to  you  to  acknowledge  your  situation 
to  me,  and  be  assured  that  you  shall  never  have 
reason  to  repent  it.  Your  case  is  a  very  unfortu- 
nate one ;  you  seem  to  me  to  be  surrounded  with 
difficulties;  and  you  will  have  need  of  all  your 
mutual  affection  to  support  you  under  them.  Mr. 
Perrars,  I  believe,  is  entirely  dependent  on  his 
mother." 

' '  He  has  only  two  thousand  pounds  of  his  own : 
it  would  be  madness  to  marry  upon  that;  though, 
for  my  own  part,  I  could  give  up  every  prospect  of 
more  without  a  sigh.  I  have  been  always  used  to 
a  very  small  income,  and  could  struggle  with  any 
poverty  for  him ;  but  I  love  him  too  well  to  be  the 
selfish  means  of  robbing  him,  perhaps,  of  all  that 
his  mother  might  give  him,  if  he  married  to  please 
her.  We  must  wait,  it  may  be  for  many  years. 
With  almost  every  other  man  in  the  world,  it 
would  be  an  alarming  prospect;  but  Edward's 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


211 


affection  and  constancy  nothing  can  deprive  me 
of,  T  know.'^ 

^^Tliat  conviction  must  be  everything  to  you; 
and  he  is,  undoubtedly,  supported  by  the  same 
trust  in  yours.  If  the  strength  of  your  reciprocal 
attachment  had  failed,  as  between  many  people 
and  under  many  circumstances  it  naturally  would 
during  a  four  years'  engagement,  your  situation 
would  have  been  pitiable  indeed. 

Lucy  here  looked  up;  but  Elinor  was  careful  in 
guarding  her  countenance  from  every  expression 
that  could  give  her  words  a  suspicious  tendency. 

Edward's  love  for  me,"  said  Lucy,  ^^has  been 
pretty  well  put  to  the  test  by  our  long,  very  long 
absence  since  we  were  first  engaged,  and  it  has 
stood  the  trial  so  well  that  I  should  be  unpardon- 
able to  doubt  it  now.  I  can  safely  say  that  he  has 
never  gave  me  one  moment's  alarm  on  that  account 
from  the  first." 

Elinor  hardly  knew  whether  to  smile  or  sigh  at 
this  assertion. 

Lucy  went  on.  I  am  rather  of  a  jealous  tem- 
per, too,  by  nature;  and  from  our  different  situa- 
tions in  life,  from  his  being  so  much  more  in  the 
world  than  me,  and  our  continual  separation,  I  was 
enough  inclined  for  suspicion  to  have  found  out 
the  truth  in  an  instant,  if  there  had  been  the 
slightest  alteration  in  his  behavior  to  me  when 
we  met,  or  any  lowness  of  spirits  that  I  could  not 


212 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


account  for,  or  if  lie  had  talked  more  of  one  lady 
than  another,  or  seemed  in  any  respect  less  happy 
at  Longstaple  than  he  used  to  he.  I  do  not  mean 
to  say  that  I  am  particularly  ohservant  or  quick- 
sighted  in  general,  hut  in  such  a  case  I  am  sure 
I  could  not  he  deceived.'' 

^^All  this,"  thought  Elinor,  ^^is  very  pretty, 
but  it  can  impose  upon  neither  of  us.'' 

^^But  what,"  said  she,  after  a  short  silence, 
^^are  your  views?  or  have  you  none  hut  that  of 
w^aiting  for  Mrs.  Ferrars's  death,  which  is  a  melan- 
choly and  shocking  extremity?  Is  her  son  deter- 
mined to  submit  to  this,  and  to  all  the  tediousness 
of  the  many  years  of  suspense  in  which  it  may 
involve  you,  rather  than  run  the  risk  of  her  dis- 
pleasure for  a  while  by  owning  the  truth?  " 

^^If  we  could  be  certain  that  it  would  be  only 
for  a  while!  But  Mrs.  Eerrars  is  a  very  head- 
strong, proud  v/oman,  and  in  her  first  fit  of  anger 
upon  hearing  it  would  very  likely  secure  every- 
thing to  Robert;  and  the  idea  of  that,  for  Ed- 
ward's sake,  frightens  away  all  my  inclination  for 
hasty  measures." 

And  for  your  own  sake  too,  or  you  are  carry- 
ing your  disinterestedness  beyond  reason." 

Lucy  looked  at  Elinor  again,  and  was  silent. 

'^Do  you  know  Mr.  Eobert  Ferrars?^'  asked 
Elinor. 

^^Not  at  all,  — I  never  saw  him;  but  I  fancy  he 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


213 


is  very  unlike  his  brother,  —  silly,  and  a  great 
coxcomb. 

A  great  coxcomb!^'  repeated  Miss  Steele, 
whose  ear  had  caught  those  words  by  a  sudden 
pause  in  Marianne's  music.  ^^Oh,  they  are  talk- 
ing of  their  favorite  beaux,  I  dare  say.'^ 

Ko,  sister, cried  Lucy,  you  are  mis- 
taken there,  —  our  favorite  beaux  are  not  great 
coxcombs.'' 

^^1  can  answer  for  it  that  Miss  Dashwood's  is 
not,"  said  Mrs.  Jennings,  laughing  heartily;  ^^for 
he  is  one  of  the  modestest,  prettiest  behaved  young 
men  I  ever  saw;  but  as  for  Lucy,  she  is  such  a 
sly  little  creature,  there  is  no  finding  out  who  she 
likes." 

^^Oh, "  cried  Miss  Steele,  looking  significantly 
round  at  them,  "  I  dare  say  Lucy's  beau  is 
quite  as  modest  and  pretty  behaved  as  Miss 
Dashwood's." 

Elinor  blushed  in  spite  of  herself.  Lucy  bit 
her  lip,  and  looked  angrily  at  her  sister.  A  mu- 
tual silence  took  place  for  some  time.  Lucy  first 
put  an  end  to  it  by  saying,  in  a  lower  tone,  though 
Marianne  was  then  giving  them  the  powerful  pro- 
tection of  a  very  magnificent  concerto,  — 

^^I  will  honestly  tell  you  of  one  scheme  which 
has  lately  come  into  my  head  for  bringing  matters 
to  bear;  indeed  I  am  bound  to  let  you  into  the 
secret,  for  you  are  a  party  concerned.     I  dare  say 


214 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


jou  have  seen  enough  of  Edward  to  know  that  he 
would  prefer  the  church  to  every  other  profession; 
now  my  plan  is,  that  he  should  take  orders  as  soon 
as  he  can;  and  then,  through  your  interest,  which 
I  am  sure  you  would  be  kind  enough  to  use  out  of 
friendship  for  him,  and  I  hope  out  of  some  regard 
to  me,  your  brother  might  be  persuaded  to  give 
him  Norland  living,  which  I  understand  is  a  very 
good  one,  and  the  present  incumbent  not  likely  to 
live  a  great  while.  That  would  be  enough  for  us 
to  marry  upon,  and  w^e  might  trust  to  time  and 
chance  for  the  rest.'' 

^^I  should  be  always  happy,"  replied  Elinor, 
^^to  show  any  mark  of  my  esteem  and  friendship 
for  Mr.  Eerrars;  but  do  not  you  perceive  that  my 
interest  on  such  an  occasion  would  be  perfectly 
unnecessary?  He  is  brother  to  Mrs.  John  Dash- 
wood,  —  that  must  be  recommendation  enough  to 
her  husband." 

^^But  Mrs.  John  Dash  wood  would  not  much 
approve  of  Edward's  going  into  orders." 

^^Then  I  rather  suspect  that  my  interest  would 
do  very  little." 

They  were  again  silent  for  many  minutes.  At 
length  Lucy  exclaimed,  with  a  deep  sigh,  — 

I  believe  it  would  be  the  wisest  way  to  put  an 
end  to  the  business  at  once  by  dissolving  the  en- 
gagement. We  seem  so  beset  with  difficulties  on 
every  side,  that  though  it  would  make  us  miserable 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


215 


for  a  time,  we  should  be  happier  perhaps  in  the 
end.  But  you  will  not  give  me  your  advice,  Miss 
Dashwood?" 

^^ISTo/^  answered  Elinor,  with  a  smile,  which 
concealed  very  agitated  feelings;  ^^on  such  a  sub- 
ject I  certainly  will  not.  You  know  very  well 
that  my  opinion  would  have  no  weight  with  you, 
unless  it  were  on  the  side  of  your  wishes.'^ 

Indeed  you  wrong  me, replied  Lucy,  with 
great  solemnity.  ^^I  know  nobody  of  whose  judg- 
ment I  think  so  highly  as  I  do  of  yours;  and  I  do 
really  believe  that  if  you  was  to  say  to  me,  '  I  ad- 
vise you  by  all  means  to  put  an  end  to  your  en- 
gagement with  Edward  Eerrars,  it  will  be  more 
for  the  happiness  of  both  of  you, '  I  should  resolve 
upon  doing  it  immediately." 

Elinor  blushed  for  the  insincerity  of  Edward's 
future  wife,  and  replied:  ^^This  compliment  would 
effectually  frighten  me  from  giving  any  opinion  on 
the  subject  had  I  formed  one.  It  raises  my  influ- 
ence much  too  high:  the  power  of  dividing  two 
people  so  tenderly  attached  is  too  much  for  an  in- 
different person." 

"  'T  is  because  you  are  an  indifferent  person," 
said  Lucy,  with  some  pique,  and  laying  a  particular 
stress  on  those  words,  that  your  judgment  might 
justly  have  such  weight  with  me.  If  you  could  be 
supposed  to  be  biassed  in  any  respect  by  your  own 
feelings,  your  opinion  would  not  be  worth  having." 


216 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


Elinor  thought  it  wisest  to  make  no  answer  to 
this,  lest  they  might  provoke  each  other  to  an  un- 
suitable increase  of  ease  and  unreserve  j  and  was 
even  partly  determined  never  to  mention  the  sub- 
ject again.  Another  pause,  therefore,  of  many 
minutes'  duration,  succeeded  this  speech,  and 
Lucy  was  still  the  first  to  end  it. 

Shall  you  be  in  town  this  winter.  Miss  Dash- 
wood  ? ''  said  she,  with  all  her  accustomary 
complacency. 

Certainly  not." 

I  am  sorry  for  that,"  returned  the  other,  while 
her  eyes  brightened  at  the  information;  it  would 
have  gave  me  such  pleasure  to  meet  you  there! 
But  I  dare  say  you  will  go  for  all  that.  To  be 
sure,  your  brother  and  sister  will  ask  you  to  come 
to  them." 

^^It  will  not  be  in  my  power  to  accept  their 
invitation  if  they  do." 

How  unlucky  that  is!  I  had  quite  depended 
upon  meeting  you  there.  Anne  and  me  are  to  go 
the  latter  end  of  January  to  some  relations  who 
have  been  wanting  us  to  visit  them  these  several 
years.  But  I  only  go  for  the  sake  of  seeing  Ed- 
ward. He  will  be  there  in  February,  otherwise 
London  would  have  no  charms  for  me ;  I  have  not 
spirits  for  it." 

Elinor  was  soon  called  to  the  card-table  by  the 
conclusion  of  the  first  rubber,  and  the  confidential 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


217 


discourse  of  the  two  ladies  was  therefore  at  an  end; 
to  which  both  of  them  submitted  without  any  re- 
luctance, for  nothing  had  been  said  on  either  side 
to  make  them  dislike  each  other  less  than  they  had 
done  before;  and  Elinor  sat  down  to  the  card-table 
with  the  melancholy  persuasion  that  Edward  was 
not  only  without  affection  for  the  person  who  was 
to  be  his  wife,  but  that  he  had  not  even  the  chance 
of  being  tolerably  happy  in  marriage,  which  sin- 
cere affection  on  her  side  would  have  given;  for 
self-interest  alone  could  induce  a  woman  to  keep 
a  man  to  an  engagement  of  which  she  seemed  so 
thoroughly  aware  that  he  was  weary. 

From  this  time  the  subject  was  never  revived  by 
Elinor ;  and  when  entered  on  by  Lucy,  who  seldom 
missed  an  opportunity  of  introducing  it,  and  was 
particularly  careful  to  inform  her  confidante  of  her 
happiness  whenever  she  received  a  letter  from  Ed- 
ward, it  was  treated  by  the  former  with  calmness 
and  caution,  and  dismissed  as  soon  as  civility 
would  allow;  for  she  felt  such  conversations  to  be 
an  indulgence  which  Lucy  did  not  deserve,  and 
which  were  dangerous  to  herself. 

The  visit  of  the  Miss  Steeles  at  Barton  Park  was 
lengthened  far  beyond  what  the  first  invitation  im- 
plied. Their  favor  increased;  they  could  not  be 
spared;  Sir  John  would  not  hear  of  their  going; 
and  in  spite  of  their  numerous  and  long  arranged 
engagements  in  Exeter,  in  spite  of  the  absolute 


218 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


necessity  of  their  returning  to  fulfil  them  imme- 
diately, which  v/as  in  fall  force  at  the  end  of  every 
week,  they  were  prevailed  on  to  stay  nearly  two 
months  at  the  Park,  and  to  assist  in  the  due  cele- 
bration of  that  festival  which  requires  a  more  than 
ordinary  share  of  private  balls  and  large  dinners  to 
proclaim  its  importance. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


Though  Mrs.  Jennings  was  in  the  habit  of  spend- 
ing a  large  portion  of  the  year  at  the  houses  of  her 
children  and  friends,  she  was  not  without  a  settled 
habitation  of  her  own.  Since  the  death  of  her 
husband,  who  had  traded  with  success  in  a  less 
elegant  part  of  the  town,  she  had  resided  every 
winter  in  a  house  in  one  of  the  streets  near  Port- 
man  Square.  Towards  this  home  she  began,  on 
the  approach  of  January,  to  turn  her  thoughts; 
and  thither  she  one  day  abruptly,  and  very  unex- 
pectedly by  them,  asked  the  elder  Miss  Dashwoods 
to  accompany  her.  Elinor,  without  observing  the 
varying  complexion  of  her  sister,  and  the  animated 
look  which  spoke  no  indifference  to  the  plan,  im- 
mediately gave  a  grateful  but  absolute  denial  for 
both,  in  which  she  believed  herself  to  be  speaking 
their  united  inclinations.  The  reason  alleged  was 
their  determined  resolution  of  not  leaving  their 
mother  at  that  time  of  the  year.  Mrs.  Jennings 
received  the  refusal  with  some  surprise,  and  re- 
peated her  invitation  immediately. 

' '  Oh,  Lord !  I  am  sure  your  mother  can  spare 
you  very  well,  and  I  do  beg  you  will  favor  me  with 


220 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


your  company,  for  I  Ve  quite  set  my  heart  upon  it. 
Don't  fancy  that  you  will  be  any  inconvenience  to 
me,  for  I  sha'n't  put  myself  at  all  out  of  my  way 
lor  you.  It  will  only  be  sending  Betty  by  the 
coach,  and  I  hope  I  can  afford  that.  We  three 
shall  be  able  to  go  very  well  in  my  chaise;  and 
when  we  are  in  town,  if  you  do  not  like  to  go 
wherever  I  do,  well  and  good,  you  may  always  go 
with  one  of  my  daughters.  I  am  sure  your  mother 
will  not  object  to  it;  for  I  have  had  such  good 
luck  in  getting  my  own  children  off  my  hands 
that  she  will  think  me  a  ver}^  fit  person  to  have 
the  charge  of  you;  and  if  I  don't  get  one  of  you 
at  least  well  married  before  I  have  done  with  you, 
it  shall  not  be  my  fault.  I  shall  speak  a  good 
word  for  you  to  all  the  young  men^  you  may  de- 
pend upon  it." 

^^I  have  a  notion,"  said  Sir  John,  ^^that  Miss 
Marianne  would  not  object  to  such  a  scheme  if  her 
eldest  sister  would  come  into  it.  It  is  very  hard, 
indeed,  that  she  should  not  have  a  little  pleasure, 
because  Miss  Dashwood  does  not  wish  it.  So  I 
would  advise  you  two  to  set  off  for  town,  when  you 
are  tired  of  Barton,  without  saying  a  word  to  Miss 
Dashwood  about  it." 

'*Nay,"  cried  Mrs.  Jennings,  ^^I  am  sure  I 
shall  be  monstrous  glad  of  Miss  Marianne's  com- 
pany, whether  Miss  Dashwood  will  go  or  not,  only 
the  more  the  merrier  say  I,  and  I  thought  it  would 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


221 


be  more  comfortable  for  them  to  be  together;  be- 
cause if  they  got  tired  of  me  they  might  talk  to 
one  another,  and  laugh  at  my  odd  ways  behind  my 
back.  But  one  or  the  other,  if  not  both  of  them,  I 
must  have.  Lord  bless  me !  how  do  you  think  I  can 
live  poking  by  mj^self,  —  I  who  have  been  always 
used,  till  this  winter^  to  have  Charlotte  with  me! 
Come,  Miss  Marianne,  let  us  strike  hands  upon 
the  bargain;  and  if  Miss  Dashwood  will  change 
her  mind  by  and  by,  why^,  ?o  much  the  better." 

^^I  thank  you,  ma'am,  ^^incerely  thank  you,'' 
said  Marianne,  with  warmth;  ^^your  invitation 
has  insured  my  gratitude  forever;  and  it  would 
give  me  such  happiness,  yes,  almost  the  greatest 
happiness  I  am  capable  of,  to  be  able  to  accept  it. 
But  my  mother,  my  dearest,  kindest  mother,  —  I 
feel  the  justice  of  what  Elinor  has  urged;  and  if 
she  were  to  be  made  less  haj)py,  less  comfortable 
by  our  absence,  —  oh,  no,  nothing  should  tempt 
me  to  leave  her.  It  should  not,  must  not  be  a 
struggle." 

Mrs.  Jennings  repeated  her  assurance  that  Mrs. 
Dashwood  could  spare  them  perfectly  well;  and 
Elinor,  who  now  understood  her  sister,  and  saw  to 
what  indifference  to  almost  everything  else  she  was 
carried  by  her  eagerness  to  be  with  Willoughby 
again,  made  no  further  direct  opposition  to  the 
plan,  and  merely  referred  it  to  her  mother's  deci- 
sion, from  whom,  however,  she  scarcely  expected  to 


222 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


receive  any  support  in  her  endeavor  to  prevent  a 
visit  which  she  could  not  approve  of  for  Marianne, 
and  which  on  her  own  account  she  had  particular 
reasons  to  avoid.  Whatever  Marianne  was  desir- 
ous of,  her  mother  would  be  eager  to  promote: 
she  could  not  expect  to  influence  the  latter  to  cau- 
tiousness of  conduct  in  an  affair  respecting  which 
she  had  never  been  able  to  inspire  her  with  dis- 
trust; and  she  dared  not  explain  the  motive  of  her 
own  disinclination  for  going  to  London.  That 
Marianne,  fastidious  as  she  was,  thoroughly  ac- 
quainted with  Mrs.  Jennings's  manners,  and  inva- 
riably disgusted  by  them,  should  overlook  every 
inconvenience  of  that  kind,  should  disregard  what- 
ever must  be  most  wounding  to  her  irritable  feel- 
ings, in  her  pursuit  of  one  object,  was  such  a 
proof,  so  strong,  so  full,  of  the  importance  of  that 
object  to  her,  as  Elinor,  in  spite  of  all  that  had 
passed,  was  not  prepared  to  witness. 

On  being  informed  of  the  invitation,  Mrs.  Dash- 
wood,  persuaded  that  such  an  excursion  would  be 
productive  of  much  amusement  to  both  her  daugh- 
ters, and  perceiving,  through  all  her  affectionate  at- 
tention to  herself,  how  much  the  heart  of  Marianne 
was  in  it,  would  not  hear  of  their  declining  the 
offer  upon  her  account ;  insisted  on  their  both  ac- 
cepting it  directly;  and  then  began  to  foresee,  with 
her  usual  cheerfulness,  a  variety  of  advantages  that 
would  accrue  to  them  all  from  this  separation. 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


223 


I  am  deliglited  witli  the  plan/'  she  cried;  ^^it 
is  exactly  what  I  could  wish.  Margaret  and  I 
shall  he  as  much  henefited  hy  it  as  yourselves. 
When  you  and  the  Middletons  are  gone,  we  shall 
go  on  so  quietly  and  happily  together  with  our 
books  and  our  music !  You  will  find  Margaret  so 
improved  when  you  come  hack  again!  And  I  have 
a  little  plan  of  alteration  for  your  bedrooms,  too, 
which  may  now  be  performed  without  inconven- 
ience to  any  one.  It  is  very  right  that  you  should 
go  to  town;  I  would  have  every  young  woman  of 
your  condition  in  life  acquainted  with  the  manners 
and  amusements  of  London.  You  will  be  under 
the  care  of  a  motherly,  good  sort  of  woman,  of 
whose  kindness  to  you  I  can  have  no  doubt.  And 
in  all  probability  you  will  see  your  brother; 
and  whatever  may  be  his  faults,  or  the  faults  of 
his  wife,  when  I  consider  whose  son  he  is,  I  cannot 
bear  to  have  you  so  wholly  estranged  from  each 
other." 

Though  with  your  usual  anxiety  for  our  hap- 
piness,'^ said  Elinor,  ^^you  have  been  obviating 
every  impediment  to  the  present  scheme  which 
occurred  to  you,  there  is  still  one  objection  which 
in  my  opinion  cannot  be  so  easily  removed." 

Marianne's  countenance  sunk. 

^^And  what,"  said  Mrs.  Dashwood,  ^^is  my 
dear,  prudent  Elinor  going  to  suggest?  What 
formidable  obstacle  is  she  now  to  bring  forward? 


224 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


Do  not  let  me  hear  a  word  about  the  expense 
of  it." 

^'^My  objection  is  this:  though  I  think  very 
well  of  Mrs.  Jennings's  hearty  she  is  not  a  woman 
whose  society  can  afford  us  pleasure^  or  whose 
protection  will  give  us  consequence." 

^^That  is  very  true,"  replied  her  mother;  ^^but 
of  her  society  separately  from  that  of  other  people, 
you  will  scarcely  have  anything  at  all,  and  you 
will  almost  always  appear  in  public  with  Lady 
Middleton." 

^^If  Elinor  is  frightened  away  by  her  dislike  of 
Mrs.  Jennings,"  said  Marianne,  ^^at  least  it  need 
not  prevent  my  accepting  her  invitation.  I  have 
no  such  scruples;  and  I  am  sure  I  could  put  up 
with  every  unpleasantness  of  that  kind  with  very* 
little  effort." 

Elinor  could  not  help  smiling  at  this  display  of 
indifference  towards  the  manners  of  a  person  to 
whom  she  had  often  had  difficulty  in  persuading 
Marianne  to  behave  with  tolerable  politeness;  and 
resolved  within  herself  that  if  her  sister  persisted 
in  going,  she  would  go  likewise,  as  she  did  not 
think  it  proper  that  Marianne  should  be  left  to  the 
sole  guidance  of  her  own  judgment,  or  that  Mrs. 
Jennings  should  be  abandoned  to  the  mercy  of 
Marianne,  for  all  the  comfort  of  her  domestic 
hours.  To  this  determination  she  was  the  more 
easily    reconciled  by   recollecting   that  Edward 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


225 


Ferrars,  by  Lucy^s  account,  was  not  to  be  in  town 
before  February;  and  that  their  visit,  without 
any  unreasonable  abridgment,  might  be  previously 
finished. 

I  will  hav^e  you  both  go,    said  Mrs.  Dashwood; 

these  objections  are  nonsensical.  You  will  have 
much  pleasure  in  being  in  London,  and  especially 
in  being  together;  and  if  Elinor  would  ever  con- 
descend to  anticipate  enjoyment,  she  would  foresee 
it  there  from  a  variety  of  sources ;  she  would,  per- 
haps, expect  some  from  improving  her  acquaintance 
with  her  sister-in-law's  family.'^ 

Elinor  had  often  wished  for  an  opportunity  of 
attempting  to  weaken  her  mother's  dependence  on 
the  attachment  of  Edward  and  herself,  that  the 
shock  might  be  the  less  when  the  whole  truth  were 
revealed;  and  now,  on  this  attack,  though  almost 
hopeless  of  success,  she  forced  herself  to  begin  her 
design  by  saying,  as  calmly  as  she  could:  ^^I  like 
Edward  Ferrars  very  much,  and  shall  always  be 
glad  to  see  him;  but  as  to  the  rest  of  the  family, 
it  is  a  matter  of  perfect  indifference  to  me  whether 
I  am  ever  known  to  them  or  not." 

Mrs.  Dashwood  smiled,  and  said  nothing. 
Marianne  lifted  up  her  eyes  in  astonishment,  and 
Elinor  conjectured  that  she  might  as  well  have 
held  her  tongue. 

After  very  little  further  discourse,  it  was  finally 
settled  that  the  invitation  should  be  fully  ac- 

VOL.  I.  —  15 


226 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


cepted.  Mrs.  Jennings  received  the  information 
with  a  great  deal  of  joy,  and  many  assurances  of 
kindness  and  care;  nor  was  it  a  matter  of  pleasure 
merely  to  her.  Sir  John  was  delighted;  for  to  a 
man  whose  prevailing  anxiety  was  the  dread  of 
being  alone,  the  acquisition  of  two  to  the  number 
of  inhabitants  in  London  was  something.  Even 
Lady  Middleton  took  the  trouble  of  being  de- 
lighted, which  was  putting  herself  rather  out  of 
her  way;  and  as  for  the  Miss  Steeles,  especially 
Lucy,  they  had  never  been  so  happy  in  their  lives 
as  this  intelligence  made  them. 

Elinor  submitted  to  the  arrangement  which 
counteracted  her  wishes  with  less  reluctance  than 
she  had  expected  to  feel.  With  regard  to  herself, 
it  was  now  a  matter  of  unconcern  whether  she 
went  to  town  or  not ;  and  when  she  saw  her  mother 
so  thoroughly  pleased  with  the  plan,  and  her 
sister  exhilarated  by  it  in  look,  voice,  and  manner, 
restored  to  all  her  usual  animation,  and  elevated 
to  more  than  her  usual  gayety,  she  could  not  be 
dissatisfied  with  the  cause,  and  would  hardly  allow 
herself  to  distrust  the  consequence. 

Marianne's  joy  was  almost  a  degree  beyond 
happiness,  so  great  was  the  perturbation  of  her 
spirits,  and  her  impatience  to  be  gone.  Her  un- 
willingness to  quit  her  mother  was  her  only  re- 
storative to  calmness;  and  at  the  moment  of 
parting  her  grief  on  that  score  was  excessive.  Her 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY.  227 


mother's  affliction  was  hardly  less;  and  Elinor 
was  the  only  one  of  the  three  who  seemed  to  con- 
sider the  separation  as  anything  short  of  eternal. 

Their  departure  took  place  in  the  first  week  in 
January.  The  Middletons  were  to  follow  in  about 
a  week.  The  Miss  Steeles  kept  their  station  at 
the  Park,  and  were  to  quit  it  only  with  the  rest 
of  the  family. 


CHAPTEE  XXVI. 


Elinor  could  not  find  herself  in  the  carriage  with 
Mrs.  Jennings,  and  beginning  a  journey  to  Lon- 
don under  her  protection,  and  as  her  guest,  with- 
out wondering  at  her  own  situation,  so  short 
had  their  acquaintance  with  that  lady  been,  so 
wholly  unsuited  were  they  in  age  and  disposition, 
and  so  many  had  been  her  objections  against  such 
a  measure  only  a  few  days  before!  But  these 
objections  had  all,  with  that  happy  ardor  of  youth 
which  Marianne  and  her  mother  equally  shared, 
been  overcome  or  overlooked;  and  Elinor,  in  spite 
of  every  occasional  doubt  of  Willoughby's  con- 
stancy, could  not  witness  the  rapture  of  delightful 
expectation  which  filled  the  whole  soul  and  beamed 
in  the  eyes  of  Marianne,  without  feeling  how 
blank  was  her  own  prospect,  how  cheerless  her  own 
state  of  mind  in  the  comparison,  and  how  gladly 
she  would  engage  in  the  solicitude  of  Marianne^s 
situation  to  have  the  same  animating  object  in 
view,  the  same  possibility  of  hope.  A  short,  a  very 
short  time,  however,  must  now  decide  what  Wil- 
loughby's  intentions  were;  in  all  probability  he 
was  already  in  town.    Marianne's  eagerness  to 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


229 


be  gone  declared  her  dependence  on  finding  liim 
there;  and  Elinor  was  resolved  not  only  upon 
gaining  every  new  light  as  to  his  character 
which  her  own  observation  or  the  intelligence 
of  others  could  give  her,  but  likewise  upon  watch- 
ing his  behavior  to  her  sister  with  such  zealous 
attention  as  to  ascertain  what  he  was  and  what  he 
meant,  before  many  meetings  had  taken  place. 
Should  the  result  of  her  observations  be  unfavor- 
able, she  was  determined  at  all  events  to  open  the 
eyes  of  her  sister;  should  it  be  otherwise,  her 
exertions  would  be  of  a  different  nature,  — she 
must  then  learn  to  avoid  every  selfish  compari- 
son, and  banish  every  regret  which  might  lessen 
her  satisfaction  in  the  happiness  of  Marianne. 

They  were  three  days  on  their  journey;  and 
Marianne's  behavior,  as  they  travelled,  was  a 
happy  specimen  of  what  her  future  complaisance 
and  companionableness  to  Mrs.  Jennings  might  be 
expected  to  be.  She  sat  in  silence  almost  all  the 
way,  wrapped  in  her  own  meditations,  and  scarcely 
ever  voluntarily  speaking,  except  when  any  object 
of  picturesque  beauty  within  their  view  drew  from 
her  an  exclamation  of  delight  exclusively  addressed 
to  her  sister.  To  atone  for  this  conduct,  therefore, 
Elinor  took  immediate  possession  of  the  post  of 
civility  which  she  had  assigned  herself,  behaved 
with  the  greatest  attention  to  Mrs.  Jennings, 
talked  with  her,  laughed  with  her,  and  listened  to 


230 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


her  whenever  she  could;  and  Mrs.  Jennings,  on 
her  side,  treated  them  both  with  all  possible  kind- 
ness, was  solicitous  on  every  occasion  for  their 
ease  and  enjoyment,  and  only  disturbed  that  she 
could  not  make  them  choose  their  own  dinners  at 
the  inn,  nor  extort  a  confession  of  their  preferring 
salmon  to  cod,  or  boiled  fowls  to  veal  cutlets. 
They  reached  town  by  three  o'clock  the  third  day, 
glad  to  be  released,  after  such  a  journey,  from  the 
confinement  of  a  carriage,  and  ready  to  enjoy  all 
the  luxury  of  a  good  fire. 

The  house  was  handsome  and  handsomely  fitted 
up;  and  the  young  ladies  were  immediately  put  in 
possession  of  a  very  comfortable  apartment.  It 
had  formerly  been  Charlotte's;  and  over  the  man- 
telpiece still  hung  a  landscape  in  colored  silks 
of  her  performance,  in  proof  of  her  having  spent 
seven  years  at  a  great  school  in  town  to  some 
effect. 

As  dinner  was  not  to  be  ready  in  less  than  two 
hours  from  their  arrival,  Elinor  determined  to  em- 
ploy the  interval  in  writing  to  her  mother,  and  sat 
down  for  that  purpose.  In  a  few  moments  Mari- 
anne did  the  same,  ^^/am  writing  home,  Mari- 
anne," said  Elinor;  ^^had  not  you  better  defer 
your  letter  for  a  day  or  two?" 

^^I  am  not  going  to  write  to  my  mother,"  re- 
plied Marianne,  hastily,  and  as  if  wishing  to  avoid 
any  further  inquiry.    Elinor  said  no  more :  it  im- 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


231 


mediately  struck  her  that  she  must  then  he  writing 
to  Willoughhy;  and  the  conclusion  which  as  in- 
stantly followed  was,  that  however  mysteriously 
they  might  wish  to  conduct  the  affair,  they  must 
be  engaged.  This  conviction,  though  not  entirely 
satisfactory,  gave  her  pleasure,  and  she  continued 
her  letter  with  greater  alacrity.  Marianne's  was 
finished  in  a  very  few  minutes ;  in  length  it  could 
be  no  more  than  a  note;  it  was  then  folded  up, 
sealed,  and  directed  with  eager  rapidity.  Elinor 
thought  she  could  distinguish  a  large  W  in  the 
direction;  and  no  sooner  was  it  complete  than 
Marianne,  ringing  the  bell,  requested  the  footman 
who  answered  it  to  get  that  letter  conveyed  for  her 
to  the  two-penny  post.  This  decided  the  matter 
at  once. 

Her  spirits  still  continued  very  high;  but  there 
was  a  flutter  in  them  which  prevented  their  giving 
much  pleasure  to  her  sister,  and  this  agitation 
increased  as  the  evening  drew  on.  She  could 
scarcely  eat  any  dinner;  and  when  they  afterwards 
returned  to  the  drawing-room,  seemed  anxiously 
listening  to  the  sound  of  every  carriage. 

It  was  a  great  satisfaction  to  Elinor  that  Mrs. 
Jennings,  by  being  much  engaged  in  her  own 
room,  could  see  little  of  what  was  passing.  The 
tea-things  were  brought  in,  and  already  had  Mari- 
anne been  disa|)pointed  more  than  once  by  a  rap 
at  a  neighboring  door,  when  a  loud  one  was  sud- 


232  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


denly  heard  which  could  not  be  mistaken  for  one 
at  any  other  house.  Elinor  felt  secure  of  its  an- 
nouncing Willoughby's  approach;  and  Marianne, 
starting  up,  moved  towards  the  door.  Everything 
was  silent :  this  could  not  be  borne  many  seconds ; 
she  opened  the  door,  advanced  a  few  steps  towards 
the  stairs,  and  after  listening  half  a  minute,  re- 
turned into  the  room  in  all  the  agitation  which  a 
conviction  of  having  heard  him  would  naturally 
produce.  In  the  ecstasy  of  her  feelings  at  that 
instant  she  could  not  help  exclaiming,  ^^Oh, 
Elinor,  it  is  Willoughby,  indeed  it  is!  and 
seemed  almost  ready  to  throw  herself  into  his 
arms,  when  Colonel  Brandon  appeared. 

It  was  too  great  a  shock  to  be  borne  with  calm- 
ness, and  she  immediately  left  the  room.  Elinor 
was  disappointed  too,  but  at  the  same  time  her 
regard  for  Colonel  Brandon  insured  his  welcome 
with  her;  and  she  felt  particularly  hurt  that  a 
man  so  partial  to  her  sister  should  perceive  that 
she  experienced  nothing  but  grief  and  disappoint- 
ment in  seeing  him.  She  instantly  saw  that  it 
was  not  unnoticed  by  him;  that  he  even  observed 
Marianne,  as  she  quitted  the  room,  with  such  as- 
tonishment and  concern  as  hardly  left  him  the 
recollection  of  what  civility  demanded  towards 
herself. 

Is  your  sister  ill?  "  said  he. 

Elinor  answered,  in  some  distress,  that  she  was  3 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


233 


and  then  talked  of  headaches,  low  spirits,  and  over- 
fatigues, and  of  everything  to  which  she  could 
decently  attribute  her  sister's  behavior. 

He  heard  her  with  the  most  earnest  attention; 
but  seeming  to  recollect  himself,  said  no  more  on 
the  subject,  and  began  directly  to  speak  of  his 
pleasure  at  seeing  them  in  London,  making  the 
usual  inquiries  about  their  journey  and  the  friends 
they  had  left  behind. 

In  this  calm  kind  of  way,  with  very  little  inter- 
est on  either  side,  they  continued  to  talk;  both  of 
them  out  of  spirits,  and  the  thoughts  of  both  en- 
gaged elsewhere.  Elinor  wished  very  much  to 
ask  whether  Willoughby  were  then  in  town,  but 
she  was  afraid  of  giving  him  pain  by  any  inquiry 
after  his  rival;  and  at  length,  by  way  of  saying 
something,  she  asked  if  he  had  been  in  London 
ever  since  she  had  seen  him  last.  ^^Yes,"  he 
replied,  with  some  embarrassment,  ^'almost  ever 
since ;  I  have  been  once  or  twice  at  Delaford  for  a 
few  days,  but  it  has  never  been  in  my  power  to 
return  to  Barton. 

This,  and  the  manner  in  which  it  was  said,  im- 
mediately brought  back  to  her  remembrance  all 
the  circumstances  of  his  quitting  that  place,  with 
the  uneasiness  and  suspicions  they  had  caused  to 
Mrs.  Jennings ;  and  she  was  fearful  that  her  ques- 
tion had  implied  much  more  curiosity  on  the  sub- 
ject than  she  had  ever  felt. 


234 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


Mrs.  Jennings  soon  came  in.  ^^Oh,  Colonel," 
said  she,  with  her  usual  noisy  cheerfulness,  ^'1  am 
monstrous  glad  to  see  you,  —  sorry  I  could  not 
come  before,  —  beg  your  pardon,  —  but  I  have  been 
forced  to  look  about  me  a  little,  and  settle  my 
matters;  for  it  is  a  long  while  since  I  have  been 
at  home,  and  you  know  one  has  always  a  world  of 
little  odd  things  to  do  after  one  has  been  away  for 
any  time;  and  then  I  have  had  Cartwright  to  set- 
tle with.  Lord,  I  have  been  as  busy  as  a  bee  ever 
since  dinner!  But  pray.  Colonel,  how  came  you  to 
conjure  out  that  I  should  be  in  town  to-day?  " 

^^I  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  it  at  Mr. 
Palmer's,  where  I  have  been  dining." 

^^Oh,  you  did;  well,  and  how  do  they  all  do  at 
their  house?  How  does  Charlotte  do?  I  warrant 
you  she  is  a  fine  size  by  this  time." 

^^Mrs.  Palmer  appeared  quite  well;  and  I  am 
commissioned  to  tell  you  that  you  will  certainly 
see  her  to-morrow." 

^^Ay,  to  be  sure,  I  thought  as  much.  Well, 
Colonel,  I  have  brought  two  young  ladies  with  me, 
you  see,  — that  is,  you  see  but  one  of  them  now, 
but  there  is  another  somewhere.  Your  friend  Miss 
Marianne,  too,  which  you  will  not  be  sorry  to  hear. 
I  do  not  know  what  you  and  Mr.  Willoughby  will 
do  between  you  about  her.  Ay,  it  is  a  fine  thing 
to  be  young  and  handsome.  Well,  I  was  young 
once,  but  I  never  was  very  handsome,  —  worse  luck 


4 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


235 


for  me.  Hoy»^ever,  I  got  a  very  good  husband,  and 
I  don't  know  what  the  greatest  beauty  can  do 
more.  Ah,  poor  man!  he  has  been  dead  these 
eight  years  and  better.  But,  Colonel,  where  have 
you  been  to  since  we  parted?  And  how  does  your 
business  go  on?  Come,  come,  let 's  have  no  secrets 
among  friends." 

He  replied  with  his  accustomary  mildness  to  all 
her  inquiries,  but  without  satisfying  her  in  any. 
Elinor  now  began  to  make  the  tea,  and  Marianne 
was  obliged  to  appear  again. 

After  her  entrance  Colonel  Brandon  became 
more  thoughtful  and  silent  than  he  had  been  be- 
fore, and  Mrs.  Jennings  could  not  prevail  on  him 
to  stay  long.  No  other  visitor  appeared  that  even- 
ing, and  the  ladies  were  unanimous  in  agreeing  to 
go  early  to  bed. 

Marianne  rose  the  next  morning  with  recovered 
spirits  and  happy  looks.  The  disappointment  of 
the  evening  before  seemed  forgotten  in  the  expec- 
tation of  what  was  to  happen  that  day.  They  had 
not  long  finished  their  breakfast  before  Mrs. 
Palmer's  barouche  stopped  at  the  door,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  she  came  laughing  into  the  room,  —  so 
delighted  to  see  them  all,  that  it  was  hard  to  say 
whether  she  received  most  pleasure  from  meeting 
her  mother  or  the  Miss  Dashwoods  again;  so 
surprised  at  their  coming  to  town,  though  it  was 
what  she  had  rather  expected  all  along;  so  angry 


236 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


at  their  accepting  her  mother's  invitation  after 
having  declined  her  own,  though  at  the  same 
time  she  would  never  have  forgiven  them  if  they 
had  not  come! 

^^Mr.  Palmer  will  be  so  happy  to  see  you, 
said  she.     "  What  do  you  think  he  said  when  he 
heard  of  your  coming  with  mamma?    I  forget 
•what  it  was  now,  but  it  was  something  so  droll!  '' 

After  an  hour  or  two  spent  in  what  her  mother 
called  comfortable  chat,  or,  in  other  words,  in  every 
variety  of  inquiry  concerning  all  their  acquaint- 
ance on  Mrs.  Jennings's  side,  and  in  laughter 
without  cause  on  Mrs.  Palmer's,  it  was  proposed 
by  the  latter  that  they  should  all  accompany  her 
to  some  shops,  where  she  had  business  that  morn- 
ing, to  which  Mrs.  Jennings  and  Elinor  readily 
consented,  as  having  likewise  some  purchases  to 
make  themselves;  and  Marianne,  though  declining 
it  at  first,  was  induced  to  go  likewise. 

Wherever  they  went  she  was  evidently  always 
on  the  watch.  In  Bond  Street,  especially,  where 
much  of  their  business  lay,  her  eyes  were  in  con- 
stant inquiry;  and  in  whatever  shop  the  j^arty 
were  engaged  her  mind  was  equally  abstracted  from 
everything  actually  before  them,  from  all  that 
interested  and  occupied  the  others.  Eestless  and 
dissatisfied  everywhere,  her  sister  could  never  ob- 
tain her  opinion  of  any  article  of  purchase,  how- 
ever it  might  equally  concern  them  both;  she 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


237 


received  no  pleasure  from  anything;  was  only 
impatient  to  be  at  home  again^  and  could  with 
difficulty  govern  her  vexation  at  the  tediousness  of 
Mrs.  Palmer,  whose  eye  was  caught  by  everything 
pretty,  expensive,  or  new;  who  was  wild  to  buy  all, 
could  determine  on  none,  and  dawdled  away  her 
time  in  rapture  and  indecision. 

It  was  late  in  the  morning  before  they  returned 
home;  and  no  sooner  had  they  entered  the  house 
than  Marianne  flew  eagerly  upstairs;  and  when 
Elinor  followed,  she  found  her  turning  from  the 
table  with  a  sorrowful  countenance  which  declared 
that  no  Willoughby  had  been  there. 

^^Has  no  letter  been  left  here  for  me  since  we 
went  out?''  said  she  to  the  footman,  who  then 
entered  with  the  parcels.  She  was  answered  in 
the  negative.  ^^Are  you  quite  sure  of  it?''  she 
replied.  ^^Are  you  certain  that  no  servant,  no 
porter,  has  left  any  letter  or  note?" 

The  man  replied  that  none  had. 

How  very  odd!  "  said  she,  in  a  low  and  disap- 
pointed voice,  as  she  turned  away  to  the  window. 

^^How  odd,  indeed!"  repeated  Elinor  within 
herself,  regarding  her  sister  with  uneasiness.  ^^If 
she  had  not  known  him  to  be  in  town,  she  would 
not  have  written  to  him  as  she  did,  she  would 
have  written  to  Combe  Magna;  and  if  he  is  in 
town,  how  odd  that  he  should  neither  come  nor 
write!    Oh,  my  dear  mother,  you  must  be  wrong 


238 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


in  permitting  an  engagement  between  a  daughter 
so  young,  a  man  so  little  known,  to  be  carried  on 
in  so  doubtful,  so  mysterious  a  manner!  /  long  to 
inquire;  but  how  will  viy  interference  be  borne? 

She  determined,  after  some  consideration,  that  if 
appearances  continued  many  days  longer  as  un- 
pleasant as  they  now  were,  she  would  represent  in 
the  strongest  manner  to  her  mother  the  necessity 
of  some  serious  inquiry  into  the  affair. 

Mrs.  Palmer  and  two  elderly  ladies  of  Mrs.  Jen- 
nings's intimate  acquaintance,  whom  she  had  met 
and  invited  in  the  morning,  dined  with  them. 
The  former  left  them  soon  after  tea  to  fulfil  her 
evening  engagements;  and  Elinor  was  obliged  to 
assist  in  making  a  whist-table  for  the  others. 
Marianne  was  of  no  use  on  these  occasions,  as  she 
would  never  learn  the  game ;  but  though  her  time 
was  therefore  at  her  own  disposal,  the  evening  was 
by  no  means  more  productive  of  pleasure  to  her 
than  to  Elinor,  for  it  was  spent  in  all  the  anxiety 
of  expectation  and  the  pain  of  disappointment. 
She  sometimes  endeavored  for  a  few  minutes  to 
read;  but  the  book  w^as  soon  thrown  aside,  and  she 
returned  to  the  more  interesting  employment  of 
walking  backwards  and  forwards  across  the  room, 
pausing  for  a  moment  whenever  she  came  to  the 
window,  in  hopes  of  distinguishing  the  long- 
expected  rap. 


CHAPTEE  XXVII. 


^^If  this  open  weather  holds  much  longer/'  said 
Mrs.  Jennings,  when  they  met  at  breakfast  the 
following  morning,  ^^Sir  John  will  not  like  leav- 
ing Barton  next  week;  't  is  a  sad  thing  for  sports- 
men to  lose  a  day's  pleasure.  Poor  souls!  I 
always  pity  them  when  they  do;  they  seem  to 
take  it  so  much  to  heart." 

^^That  is  true/'  cried  Marianne,  in  a  cheerful 
voice,  and  walking  to  the  window  as  she  spoke,  to 
examine  the  day.  ^^I  had  not  thought  of  that. 
This  weather  will  keep  many  sportsmen  in  the 
country." 

It  was  a  lucky  recollection;  all  her  good  spirits 
were  restored  by  it.  ^^It  is  charming  weather  for 
them  indeed,"  she  continued,  as  she  sat  down  to 
the  breakfast-table  with  a  happy  countenance. 
^^How  much  they  must  enjoy  it!  But,"  with  a 
little  return  of  anxiety,  ^^it  cannot  be  expected  to 
last  long.  At  this  time  of  the  year,  and  after  such 
a  series  of  rain,  we  shall  certainly  have  very  little 
more  of  it.  Frosts  will  soon  set  in,  and  in  all 
probability  with  severity.    In  another  day  or  two, 


240 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


perhaps;  this  extreme  mildness  can  hardly  last 
longer,  — nay,  perhaps  it  may  freeze  to-night!  " 

^^At  any  rate/'  said  Elinor,  wishing  to  prevent 
Mrs.  Jennings  from  seeing  her  sister's  thoughts 
as  clearly  as  she  did,  ^^I  dare  say  we  shall  have 
Sir  John  and  Lad}^  Middleton  in  town  by  the  end 
of  next  week." 

Ay,  m}^  dear,  I  '11  warrant  you  we  do.  Mary 
always  has  her  own  way." 

And  now,"  silently  conjectured  Elinor,  ^^she 
will  write  to  Combe  by  this  day's  post." 

But  if  she  didy  the  letter  was  written  and  sent 
away  with  a  privacy  which  eluded  all  her  watch- 
fulness to  ascertain  the  fact.  Whatever  the  truth 
of  it  might  be,  and  far  as  Elinor  was  from  feeling 
thorough  contentment  about  it,  yet  while  she  saw 
Marianne  in  spirits,  she  could  not  be  very  uncom- 
fortable herself.  And  Marianne  was  in  spirits; 
happy  in  the  mildness  of  the  w^eather,  and  still 
happier  in  her  expectation  of  a  frost. 

The  morning  was  chiefly  spent  in  leaving  cards 
at  the  houses  of  Mrs.  Jennings's  acquaintance,  to 
inform  them  of  her  being  in  town;  and  Marianne 
was  all  the  time  busy  in  observing  the  direc- 
tion of  the  wind,  watching  the  variations  of  the 
sky,  and  imagining  an  alteration  in  the  air. 

Don't  you  find  it  colder  than  it  was  in  the 
morning,  Elinor?  There  seems  to  me  a  very  decided 
difference.    I  can  hardly  keep  my  hands  warm 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY.  241 


even  in  my  muff.  It  was  not  so  yesterday,  I 
think.  The  clouds  seem  parting  too;  the  sun  will 
be  out  in  a  moment,  and  we  shall  have  a  clear 
afternoon. ' ' 

Elinor  was  alternately  diverted  and  pained;  but 
Marianne  persevered,  and  saw  every  night  in  the 
brightness  of  the  fire,  and  every  morning  in  the 
appearance  of  the  atmosphere,  the  certain  symp- 
toms of  approaching  frost. 

The  Miss  Dashwoods  had  no  greater  reason  to  be 
dissatisfied  wath  Mrs.  Jennings's  style  of  living 
and  set  of  acquaintance,  than  with  her  behavior  to 
themselves,  which  was  invariably  kind.  Every- 
thing in  her  household  arrangements  was  conducted 
on  the  most  liberal  plan,  and  excepting  a  few  old 
city  friends,  whom,  to  Lady  Middleton's  regret, 
she  had  never  dropped,  she  visited  no  one  to  whom 
an  introduction  could  at  all  discompose  the  feel- 
ings of  her  young  companions.  Pleased  to  find 
herself  more  comfortably  situated  in  that  particular 
than  she  had  expected,  Elinor  was  very  willing  to 
compound  for  the  want  of  much  real  enjoyment 
from  any  of  their  evening  parties,  wdiich,  whether 
at  home  or  abroad,  formed  only  for  cards,  could 
have  little  to  amuse  her. 

Colonel  Brandon,  who  had  a  general  invitation 
to  the  house,  was  with  them  almost  every  day:  he 
came  to  look  at  Marianne,  and  talk  to  Elinor,  who 
often  derived  more  satisfaction  from  conversing 

VOL.  I.  — 16 


242 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


with  him  than  from  any  other  daily  occurrence, 
but  who  saw  at  the  same  time,  with  much  con- 
cern, his  continued  regard  for  her  sister.  She 
feared  it  was  a  strengthening  regard.  It  grieved 
her  to  see  the  earnestness  with  which  he  often 
watched  Marianne;  and  his  spirits  were  certainly 
worse  than  when  at  Barton. 

About  a  week  after  their  arrival  it  became  cer- 
tain that  Willoughby  was  also  arrived.  His  card 
was  on  the  table  when  they  came  in  from  the 
morning's  drive. 

Good  God!"  cried  Marianne,  ''he  has  been 
here  while  we  were  out."  Elinor,  rejoiced  to  be 
assured  of  his  being  in  London,  now  ventured  to 
say,  Depend  upon  it,  he  will  call  again  to-mor- 
row." But  Marianne  seemed  hardly  to  hear  her,* 
and,  on  Mrs.  Jennings's  entrance,  escaped  with  the 
precious  card. 

This  event,  while  it  raised  the  spirits  of  Elinor, 
restored  to  those  of  her  sister  all,  and  more  than 
all,  their  former  agitation.  From  this  moment 
her  mind  was  never  quiet;  the  expectation  of  see- 
ing him  every  hour  of  the  day  made  her  unfit  for 
anything.  She  insisted  on  being  left  behind, 
the  next  morning,  when  the  others  went  out. 

Elinor's  thoughts  were  full  of  what  might  be 
passing  in  Berkeley  Street  during  their  absence; 
but  a  moment's  glance  at  her  sister,  when  they  re- 
turned, was  enough  to  inform  her  that  Willoughby 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


243 


had  paid  no  second  visit  there.  A  note  was  just 
then  brought  in,  and  laid  on  the  table. 

For  me!"  cried  Marianne,  stepping  hastily 
forward. 

^^ISTo,  ma'am,  for  my  mistress." 

But  Marianne,  not  convinced,  took  it  instantly 
up. 

^^It  is,  indeed,  for  Mrs.  Jennings;  how 
provoking!  " 

^^You  are  expecting  a  letter,  then?"  said  Eli- 
nor, unable  to  be  longer  silent. 
Yes,  a  little,  —  not  much." 

After  a  short  pause,  You  have  no  confidence  in 
me,  Marianne." 

^^Nay,  Elinor,  this  reproach  from  you, — you 
who  have  confidence  in  no  one!  " 

^^Me!"  returned  Elinor,   in  some  confusion; 

indeed,  Marianne,  I  have  nothing  to  tell." 

^^Nor  I,"  answered  Marianne,  with  energy; 
^^our  situations  then  are  alike.  We  have  neither 
of  us  anything  to  tell,  —  you,  because  you  commu- 
nicate; and  I,  because  I  conceal  nothing." 

Elinor,  distressed  by  this  charge  of  reserve  in 
herself,  which  she  was  not  at  liberty  to  do  away, 
knew  not  how,  under  such  circumstances,  to  press 
for  greater  openness  in  Marianne. 

Mrs.  Jennings  soon  appeared;  and  the  note  being 
given  her,  she  read  it  aloud.  It  was  from  Lady 
Middleton,  announcing  their  arrival  in  Conduit 


244 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


Street  the  night  before,  and  requesting  the  com- 
pany of  her  mother  and  cousins  the  following 
evening.  Business  on  Sir  John's  part,  and  a  vio- 
lent cold  on  her  own,  prevented  their  calling  in 
Berkeley  Street.  The  invitation  was  accepted; 
but  when  the  hour  of  appointment  drew  near,  ne- 
cessary as  it  was,  in  common  civility,  to  Mrs.  Jen- 
nings that  they  should  both  attend  her  on  such  a 
visit,  Elinor  had  some  difficulty  in  persuading  her 
sister  to  go;  for  still  she  had  seen  nothing  of  Wil- 
loughby,  and  therefore  was  not  more  indisposed 
for  amusement  abroad  than  unwilling  to  run  the 
risk  of  his  calling  again  in  her  absence. 

Elinor  found,  when  the  evening  was  over,  that 
disposition  is  not  materially  altered  by  a  change  of 
abode;  for  although  scarcely  settled  in  town.  Sir 
John  had  contrived  to  collect  around  him  nearly 
twenty  young  people,  and  to  amuse  them  with  a 
ball.  This  was  an  affair,  however,  of  which  Lady 
Middleton  did  not  approve.  In  the  country  an 
unpremeditated  dance  was  very  allowable;  but  in 
London,  where  the  reputation  of  elegance  was 
more  important  and  less  easily  obtained,  it  was 
risking  too  much  for  the  gratification  of  a  few  girls, 
to  have  it  known  that  Lady  Middleton  had  given  a 
small  dance,  of  eight  or  nine  couples,  with  two 
violins,  and  a  mere  sideboard  collation. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Palmer  were  of  the  party;  from 
the  former,  whom  they  had  not  seen  before  since 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


245 


their  arrival  in  town,  as  lie  was  careful  to  avoid 
the  appearance  of  any  attention  to  his  mother-in- 
law,  and  therefore  never  came  near  her,  they  re- 
ceived no  mark  of  recognition  on  their  entrance. 
He  looked  at  them  slightly,  without  seeming  to 
know  who  they  were,  and  merely  nodded  to  Mrs. 
Jennings  from  the  other  side  of  the  room.  Mari- 
anne gave  one  glance  round  the  apartment  as  she 
entered,  —  it  was  enough,  he  was  not  there ;  and 
she  sat  down,  equally  ill-disposed  to  receive  or 
communicate  pleasure.  After  they  had  been  as- 
sembled about  an  hour,  Mr.  Palmer  sauntered 
towards  the  Miss  Dashwoods  to  express  his  sur- 
prise on  seeing  them  in  town,  though  Colonel 
Brandon  had  been  first  informed  of  their  arrival 
at  his  house,  and  he  had  himself  said  something 
very  droll  on  hearing  that  they  were  to  come. 

I  thought  you  were  both  in  Devonshire/'  said 

he. 

"  Did  you?     replied  Elinor. 

When  do  you  go  back  again?  " 
^^I  do  not   know."    And  thus   ended  their 
discourse. 

Never  had  Marianne  been  so  unwilling  to  dance 
in  her  life  as  she  was  that  evening,  and  never  so 
much  fatigued  by  the  exercise.  She  complained  of 
it  as  they  returned  to  Berkeley  Street. 

Ay,  ay,"  said  Mrs.  Jennings,  ^^we  know^  the 
reason  of  all  that  very  well:  if  a  certain  person, 


246 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


who  shall  be  nameless^  had  been  there,  you  would 
not  have  been  a  bit  tired;  and,  to  say  the  truth, 
it  was  not  very  pretty  of  him  not  to  give  you  the 
meeting  when  he  was  invited." 
Invited!  "  cried  Marianne. 
^^So  my  daughter  Middleton  told  me;  for  it 
seems  Sir  John  met  him  somewhere  in  the  street 
this  morning."  Marianne  said  no  more,  but 
looked  exceedingly  hurt.  Impatient  in  this  situa- 
tion to  be  doing  something  that  might  lead  to  her 
sister's  relief,  Elinor  resolved  to  write  the  next 
morning  to  her  mother,  and  hoped,  by  awakening 
her  fears  for  the  health  of  Marianne,  to  procure 
those  inquiries  which  had  been  so  long  delayed; 
and  she  was  still  more  eagerly  bent  on  this  meas- 
ure, by  perceiving,  after  breakfast  on  the  morrow, 
that  Marianne  was  again  writing  to  Willoughby, 
for  she  could  not  suppose  it  to  be  to  any  other 
person. 

About  the  middle  of  the  day  Mrs.  Jennings 
went  out  by  herself  on  business,  and  Elinor  began 
her  letter  directly,  while  Marianne,  too  restless  for 
employment,  too  anxious  for  conversation,  walked 
from  one  window  to  the  other,  or  sat  down  by  the 
fire  in  melancholy  meditation.  Elinor  was  very 
earnest  in  her  application  to  her  mother;  relat- 
ing all  that  had  passed,  her  suspicions  of  Wil- 
loughby's  inconstancy;  urging  her,  by  every  plea 
of  duty  and  affection,  to  demand  from  Marianne 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY.  247 


an  account  of  her  real  situation  with  respect 
to  him. 

Her  letter  was  scarcely  finished,  when  a  rap 
foretold  a  visitor,  and  Colonel  Brandon  was  an- 
nounced. Marianne,  who  had  seen  him  from  the 
window,  and  who  hated  company  of  any  kind,  left 
the  room  before  he  entered  it.  He  looked  more 
than  usually  grave;  and  though  expressing  satis- 
faction at  finding  Miss  Dashwood  alone,  as  if  he 
had  somewhat  in  particular  to  tell  her,  sat  for 
some  time  without  saying  a  word.  Elinor,  per- 
suaded that  he  had  some  communication  to  make 
in  which  her  sister  was  concerned,  impatiently  ex- 
pected its  opening.  It  was  not  the  first  time  of 
her  feeling  the  same  kind  of  conviction;  for  more 
than  once  before,  beginning  with  the  observation 
of,  Your  sister  looks  unwell  to-day,"  or  Your 
sister  seems  out  of  spirits,"  he  had  appeared  on 
the  point  either  of  disclosing  or  of  inquiring 
something  particular  about  her.  After  a  pause  of 
several  minutes  their  silence  was  broken  by  his 
asking  her,  in  a  voice  of  some  agitation,  when  he 
was  to  congratulate  her  on  the  acquisition  of  a 
brother.  Elinor  was  not  prepared  for  such  a  ques- 
tion, and  having  no  answer  ready,  was  obliged  to 
adopt  the  simple  and  common  expedient  of  asking 
what  he  meant.    He  tried  to  smile,  as  he  replied: 

Your  sister's  engagement  to  Mr.  Willoughby  is 
very  generally  known." 


248  SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


^'  It  cannot  be  generally  known/'  returned  Eli- 
nor, "  for  her  own  family  do  not  know  it.'' 

He  looked  surprised,  and  said:  "1  beg  your 
pardon,  I  am  afraid  my  inquiry  has  been  imperti- 
nent ;  but  I  had  not  supposed  any  secrecy  intended, 
as  they  openly  correspond,  and  their  marriage  is 
universally  talked  of." 

^^How  can  that  be?  By  whom  can  you  have 
heard  it  mentioned?" 

' '  By  many,  —  by  some  of  whom  you  know  noth- 
ing, by  others  with  whom  you  are  most  intimate, 
Mrs.  Jennings,  Mrs.  Palmer,  and  the  Middletons. 
But  still  I  might  not  have  believed  it  — for  where 
the  mind  is  perhaps  rather  unwilling  to  be  con- 
vinced, it  will  always  find  something  to  support 
its  doubts  —  if  I  had  not,  when  the  servant  let  me 
in  to-day,  accidentally  seen  a  letter  in  his  hand, 
directed  to  Mr.  Willoughby,  in  your  sister's  writ- 
ing. I  came  to  inquire,  but  I  was  convinced  be- 
fore I  could  ask  the  question.  Is  everything 
finally  settled?  Is  it  impossible  to  —  But  I 
have  no  right,  and  I  could  have  no  chance  of  suc- 
ceeding. Excuse  me.  Miss  Dashwood.  I  believe 
I  have  been  wrong  in  saying  so  much,  but  I  hardly 
know  what  to  do,  and  on  your  prudence  I  have  the 
strongest  dependence.  Tell  me  that  it  is  all  ab- 
solutely resolved  on ;  that  any  attempt  —  that,  in 
short,  concealment,  if  concealment  be  possible, 
is  all  that  remains." 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


249 


These  words,  which  conveyed  to  Elinor  a  direct 
avowal  of  his  love  for  her  sister,  affected  her  very 
much.  She  was  not  immediately  able  to  say  any- 
thing; and  even  when  her  spirits  were  recovered, 
she  debated  for  a  short  time  on  the  answer  it  would 
be  most  proper  to  give.  The  real  state  of  things 
between  Willoughby  and  her  sister  was  so  little 
known  to  herself  that  in  endeavoring  to  explain 
it,  she  might  be  as  liable  to  say  too  much  as  too 
little.  Yet,  as  she  was  convinced  that  Marianne's 
affection  for  Willoughby  could  leave  no  hope  of 
Colonel  Brandon^s  success,  whatever  the  event  of 
that  affection  might  be,  and  at  the  same  time 
wished  to  shield  her  conduct  from  censure,  she 
thought  it  most  prudent  and  kind,  after  some  con- 
sideration, to  say  more  than  she  really  knew  or 
believed.  She  acknowledged,  therefore,  that  though 
she  had  never  been  informed  by  themselves  of  the 
terms  on  which  they  stood  with  each  other,  of 
their  mutual  affection  she  had  no  doubt,  and  of 
their  correspondence  she  was  not  astonished  to 
hear. 

He  listened  to  her  with  silent  attention;  and  on 
her  ceasing  to  speak,  rose  directly  from  his  seat, 
and  after  saying  in  a  voice  of  emotion,  ^^To  your 
sister  I  wish  all  imaginable  happiness;  to  Wil- 
loughby that  he  may  endeavor  to  deserve  her,'' 
took  leave,  and  went  away. 

Elinor  derived  no  comfortable  feelings  from  this 


250 


SENSE  AND  SENSIBILITY. 


conversation  to  lessen  the  uneasiness  of  her  mind 
on  other  points;  she  was  left,  on  the  contrary, 
with  a  melancholy  impression  of  Colonel  Brandon's 
unhappiness,  and  was  prevented  even  from  wishing 
it  removed,  hy  her  anxiety  for  the  very  event  that 
must  confirm  it. 


